ESCAPING AUSTEN
by FaithBelieve
Summary: Amanda Price is engaged to Mr. Darcy and is blissfully happy to be lost in Austen. But the joy comes to a screeching halt due to an unexpected development, and she is forced to tearfully escape back to her time. Not far behind, a determined Darcy, along with Wickham, harrow hell, otherwise known as modern-day London, to bring her back to where she belongs-back to Pemberly and him.
1. Chapter 1

**Readers:**

**This rather lengthy Fan Fiction for 'Lost in Austen' is COMPLETE. I am going through the process of editing and then posting as I finish each chapter. So, hopefully, you will not have to wait very long for the next installment/chapter. **

**Let me know what you think and if you see any major writing errors, please sound the alarm. I hope you enjoy my sequel to 'Lost in Austen' - Title: ESCAPING AUSTEN**

**Thank you, FaithBelieve**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Just As You Are**

_Okay, don't panic, Amanda. You will be fine. Keep smiling, find your inner calm, and imagine yourself auditioning for one of those talent seeking reality shows._

Biting her lower lip nervously, she knew that there was one problem that plagued her inner confidence as she hesitantly made her way to the front of the room. She was convinced that she was sorely lacking in any harmonic ability that may be perceived as a talent.

There were people who made fools of themselves so consistently that they make it a part of their daily routine. Over the past several weeks in Austen's literary creation, she proved this to be true. She was now one of those persons! She had become such an expert that embarrassment had become her unwavering companion.

Amanda was convinced that eventually she would evolve from negative notoriety to one of famed eccentricity in her daily dose of humiliation. The vision of the little oriental man singing Ricky Martin's 'She Bangs' while auditioning for America's idol show immediately came to mind.

_Wait! Do I know the lyrics? She bangs, she bangs…um…inside, outside…no that's his other song. Bugger!_

Her shoulders slumped. Perhaps, it was for the best. For the most part, the lyrics would be misconstrued as highly unconventional. For the early nineteenth century, where she found herself residing, they would imagine a woman on a hunt, shooting game and hauling in grouse from the fields. Such an assumption of feminine masculinity would not be tolerated by any sense and surely ruffle the feathers of the austere males in her presence.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, she let out a deep sigh, thinking about how close she came to making it through an entire twenty-four hours in Georgian England without a single blunder.

All day she was certain she pulled off being the picture-perfect painting of a lady of that time. Gracious and graceful. Sweet and charmingly engaging. Quite enchanting, really. But thanks to a certain person, the ever elusive, historic day was about to literally come to a screeching halt.

Turning to face the expectant group, Amanda eyes narrowed to scan the back of the room and found the instigator of her current situation. There he was, leaning casually on the door's frame with a pleased, smug expression on his face.

_Yeah, Wickham, you better stay close to the exit!_

It was because of him that she was unmercifully trapped into performing, _a-cappella_ style, in front of the guests of Pemberley.

And to think, this day was to be the crown jewel of her entire existence all due to a certain announcement that had been made less than an hour ago in the main dining hall.

* * *

After the fine dinnerware had been cleared away and the crystal filled with celebratory drink, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy stood and asked all to raise their glasses and toast to the future Mistress of Pemberley, Miss Amanda Dawn Price of Hammersmith.

Darcy spoke the words proudly, laced with deep sincerity and a tinge of humility. At that moment, Amanda truly felt like she belonged at his side and in his world.

She was not stepping in as the understudy to temporarily play the part of Elizabeth Bennet. This was her new reality, but it did not stop her from pinching her arm again and squeaking out a little yelp.

Darcy bent down to speak intimately in her ear.

"If what you seek is a physical confirmation that this is not a fictitious delusion, wait until we are alone and I have you to myself." Delightful shivers had course up and down her spine as Darcy stood straight again and declared loudly, "To my future wife!"

"Here! Here!" echoed throughout the room from the men while the women daintily applauded.

Mr. Darcy and his guests were seated again, prompting the servants to appear with the dessert course and to refill the champagne glasses. Amanda's fingers found his hand that was resting on the tabletop and squeezed it.

His head turned and his eyes caught hers. "Was that agreeable, Miss Price?"

Smiling brilliantly, she nodded. "Most agreeable, Mr. Darcy."

After a shared moment, Amanda's attention had turned back to the people before her to observe their reactions at the surprise announcement.

Their whispered chatter mixed with a myriad of stunned and shocked expressions told her that they had no idea that Darcy's attachment to her had reached such heights.

Amanda especially enjoyed seeing the stupefied reaction of and subsequent jaw dropping of Caroline Bingley. Take that you stuck up, snob. No Darcy for you, and definitely no chance with me!

Then there was George, who applauded sincerely while chiming in with a heartfelt, "Well done! Well done."

Touched by his reaction, she wanted to run over to him and give him a big hug.

* * *

Needless to say, that was then, and this was now.

Eyeballing Wickham again, she determined that hugging him was no longer an option. A well-placed kneeing to his lower extremities seemed a satisfactory reaction in its stead. Wickham was in for a great deal of hurt for ruining her perfect day.

_Bastard!_

Did she say that aloud? No, she did not. She was getting better. Her determination to refrain from using any foul language was improving. However, she was still having problems in keeping a civil tongue in a world without certain advanced conveniences. Obscenities just seemed to come out naturally when she realized that something had yet to be invented.

Oh, what she would do for five minutes at the store around the corner from her flat. She would scoop up those basic modern wonderments so quickly that one would think she won a timed shopping spree. Her cart would contain practically everything found in a modern-day loo including the latest celebrity gossip tabloids.

But then again, she had the real, flesh and blood, Mr. Darcy, straight out of the pages of Jane Austen's _Pride & Prejudice_. Glancing his way, her eyes softened, as she adored every inch. She knew that she would happily live on a desolate island as long as he was within her reach. Darcy would be Tom Hanks in 'Cast Away', and she, his cherished, volleyball buddy, Wilson, only lovelier, with improved conversation and better hair.

Yes, bathroom toiletries aside, she would, as Darcy once said to her, harrow hell to be with him. Surprisingly enough, this included the hell without the Darcy family's wealth, luxury estate, and servants catering to her every need. Fortunately, providence had allowed these extravagances to be available to her. Who was she not to make full use of them?

At this moment, an extravagance would be a compact disk player, strategically hidden out-of-sight, with Celine's voice coming out of the speakers. She would give them a concert they would not soon forget! As her full-length mirror would tell anyone, her lip synching was flawless. She would have loved to see Caroline Bingley's face as she dramatically belted out 'Power of Love'. Or better yet, Titanic's theme song and seeing Darcy's expression.

Ogling her incredibly handsome and sexy, period drama fiancé, Amanda wished everyone in the room would magically disappear. Or, the thought of a cattle prod, stampeding them out to pasture, popped into her head. Once the dust cleared, then she could give a private concert for Darcy, then move on to partaking in some serious post-announcement snogging.

Instead, here she was, standing nervously in front of the expectant group in Pemberley's great room, wracking her brain for a decent enough song to bellow out.

Did she really care what impression she would make on the multiple sets of eyes that were on her? Her audience would most likely appreciate anything she did in the name of providing a 'diverting distraction' from the predictability and tedium of their pre-contemporary existence. The only person in the room she wanted to impress was Darcy, and he would be naturally biased. The rest could just sod-off.

The 'rest' included Darcy's cousin, the mousey, Miss Anne de Bourgh, whose mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was understandably, excluded from the invitation list. She spoke not a word all night; the choking gasp that spewed out from her lips after the announcement did not count.

Anne was escorted by Darcy's other cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Pleasant enough fellow, Amanda thought. Upon meeting him, she immediately went into _Emma_ mode. Lydia? No, perhaps Kitty would suit better.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were present along with Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, to whom Amanda was finally able to make acquaintances. Like the book and all the miniseries adaptations, the Gardner's were kind and very likeable.

But poor Mrs. Bennet. She was clearly distressed with the realization that Mr. Darcy was no longer obtainable for one of her daughters. Amanda knew that Mrs. Bennet's soured expression was reserved exclusively for her. After all, because of her interference, instead of three daughters married at the end of Austen's novel, the Bennet's only had one daughter married and that union was about to be mercifully annulled.

That storyline was certainly buggered-up in regards to the Bennet daughters. However, Amanda took comfort in knowing that Mrs. Bennet had no idea that she _would have_ had three daughters married instead of just the one. Otherwise, there would be hell to pay.

Mrs. Jane Collins was present, now scandalously separated from Mr. Collins, and had taken up residence with the Gardner's until the whole marriage debacle could be undone.

Rounding off the throng that was gracing the halls of Pemberley that evening was the Charles Bingley, and his sisters,  
Caroline and Louisa.

Amanda's attention turned to Jane, who was in her own realm of happiness, with her excellent, Mr. Bingley, sitting next to her. Seeing Bingley and Jane exchange doting glances at each other, Amanda was very thankful that narrative had been repaired. So what that they would have to evade social humiliation and disgrace by sailing to the Americas after the divorce was decreed. America was, at that time, a land of opportunity, and it was a good thing that Amanda paid attention during her history lessons.

Playing the spot-on psychic, she clued Bingley in that it was in his best interest to head to the Northwest, to avoid most of the upheaval that was to come between the North and South.

She also advised him to invest in anything dealing with trains and rails and gave him a head's up on a certain location in upper California—Sutter's Mill could possibly end up becoming Bingley's Mill in the history books.

Amanda wouldn't be surprised if the reluctant transplants from Britain ended up the wealthiest family in North America. All thanks to her.

Absolution, to be sure.

* * *

Darcy asked for her hand in marriage right after their first partaking of affections in the highly sophisticated gardens of Pemberley three weeks ago. Elation and happiness engulfed her, and she wanted desperately to say yes, but the extraordinary circumstances had her reluctantly putting him off.

Amanda saw the surprise followed by hurt in his eyes, but he said that he understood why she must think carefully about her decision, given the unique situation of determining what era, past or future, she could conceivable accept to spend the rest of her days a part of.

Darcy then took up her hand and brought it to his lips, saying that he would wait, with all patience and optimism, for her to give him her answer. Until such time, she would remain at Pemberley as an honored guest.

Since then, Darcy had been an attentive host and a complete gentleman. For the most part, he reverted to his aloof decorum and unbending integrity. It just drove her mad! Being a girl that needed that physical reinforcement of his affections, she seriously considered walloping him each time he bowed his head to her in detached acknowledgement.

However, he could not fool her. His predatory eyes spoke of what he really wanted to do when she was so near to him. She daydreamed of him stalking and entrapping her, and basically, having his way with her. Amanda was sure that Darcy had a bad boy streak in him, but he had this distinguished, bobble-head act well-rehearsed.

Oh, she got little bites from him, discretely, here and there, but nothing like that earth moving, first round of physical discovery they shared together on that now, sacred spot on Pemberley's grounds.

So, was this nauseatingly, respectful behavior towards her on purpose? Probably. Was he suffering as much as she was? Undoubtedly. Two weeks later, she knew she had to give him an answer to stop each of their torment. Either love him or leave him.

Then one afternoon, the stark answer presented itself clearly to her.

* * *

Her decision to marry Darcy was _not_ based upon what she could live without from the technologically advanced future, but whether or not a properly proud, English gentleman, could love an obtrusive, uncouth, child-like woman, who just happens to _not_ be a maid, for the rest of his life.

Amanda was trying her best to conform to the time period, but she knew she could never be like any of the Bennet sisters. It was very difficult to step back from designer jeans with an attitude, into conservative dresses as a submissive, gentled woman. How long would it be before Darcy was regretting and wishing he had taken up with Jane Austen's original female protagonist, Elizabeth Bennet?

Evidently, not long at all.

Darcy was introducing her to several of his land tenants right outside of the courtyard. Wanting to make a positive impression as the probable future Mistress of Pemberley, she put her best foot forward.

Unfortunately, her foot stepped into a fresh mound of manure, causing it to slip out from under her. On the way down, she bellowed out a rather colorful obscenity, and a second later, found her bum, solidly planted, in the steaming pile.

The nearest men rushed to come to her aid while Darcy remained tall, with a blank expression on his face. On her feet once again, red-faced, she profusely apologized, glancing guiltily at Darcy.

He then did something that had her jaw falling to the ground. He turned his back to her! Her chest caved as the realization struck her. He was ashamed of her. And just like that, she had her answer to his proposal. She could not condemn him to a life with her. The answer had to be no.

She quickly excused herself and ran to her room to change. Threatening tears and a sinking heart had her seeking reprieve away from the rooms and halls of Pemberley. Taking to the grounds of the estate, she walked until she could come to terms with her painful decision. After what seemed like hours, her mind started to shut down.

An eerie darkness of grief and dread surrounded her, and she felt like she was one of the walking dead. So lifeless in thought, she did not realize that she had ventured far into the interior of a large section of wilderness. She had no idea where she was. And, apparently, she was alive and not a zombie because her feet were killing her.

Plopping her derriere down on a fallen tree, a little way off the path, she pulled off her footwear, wiggled her toes and started to rub some of the soreness from her soles.

Pounding hooves had her raising her head to the sight of Darcy coming down the path towards her at full gallop. Her mouth dropped as she lost her breath at his impressive stature as he rode towards her on his majestic steed.

Darcy's approach prompted her wearied mind to imagine a more dramatic effect. Time switched from regular motion into slow motion, in the way of a spectacular scene in an epic motion picture, where the gallant hero rides in to save the day. Shaking her head out of the theater, she just could not believe that she was going to say no to becoming this man's wife.

Coming up on her quickly, Darcy shouted out her name and brought his snorting mount to an abrupt stop so close to her that she flipped backwards, most ridiculously, over the log with bared feet flying up.

If it was amusing in any way, Darcy did not acknowledge it. He hurriedly dismounted, dropped the reins, and was over the log in one fluid motion.

"Amanda! Where are you about, woman! Do you not know the dangers you face out here alone?"

Looking up him sheepishly, she gave him a feeble smile. "Would a crazy man driving a four-legged truck and nearly plowing me over be one of those dangers?"

His eyes took in her meaning as his mind registered her falling backwards and seeing her current position of being dumped, unceremoniously, on the forest carpet. He gave her a lighthearted smirk and offered his gloved hand for her to take.

Helping her up, straight into his arms, she heard a masculine sigh of relief escaped him. Feeling secure and cherished, she melted. After a moment, he pulled her back and lightly kissed her forehead.

Amanda looked up and found him affectionately regarding her in his usual manner with his head tilted, eyelids lowered, and a hint of an upturn from the corner of his mouth. His low voice droned pleasantly in her ears as he spoke.

"A woman will never have any reason to fear a man to whom he loves so acutely." Picking pine needles out of her hair, he looked into her eyes, "Forgive me, Mandy, I was most apprehensive when I could not find you, and then learning you were seen walking off hours before."

_Mandy? I love that! Remind me again why I must say no. _

"I'm sorry, too. I lost track of the time and was lost in my thoughts."

"You will not leave the grounds again unless you are escorted, Amanda," he said with gentle authority. "I will not see you harmed in any way."

She nodded dumbly, loving his protectiveness and take-charge attitude. Michael would have shrugged his shoulders and send her back out to pick up some sushi.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and Darcy's head turned upwards to look at the darkening sky.

"We must get you back to Pemberley." His hands circled her waist and lifted her over the log, "What were these thoughts you were lost within?"

Here we go, she thought. This is the moment I do the most unselfish thing in my life, and possibly the stupidest thing, as well.

"That I was more lady-like, Darcy. Like Jane or Elizabeth. I'm such an embarrassment and a clod," she said, bowing her head to hide her face from him. "You shouldn't have to put up with me."

"You are the one in my heart."

"But for how long?"

"What are you insinuating, Amanda?"

"You turned your back to me when I slipped. You were ashamed," she said, trying to control the welling tears. "How long before your humiliation replaces any love you have for me?"

Not saying anything, he sat her down on the log. Bending down on one knee, he proceeded to unabashedly brush off her bared feet and slip her shoes back on. He was not denying it and her lip began to quiver with emotion.

Once done, he put one hand on each side of her on the log, enclosing her into his private space. His eyes locked in on hers, causing instant paralysis.

"Let me say this, Miss Price. I have before me the most beautiful, exhilarating, and astonishingly unique creature. She stirs my heart in ways that I could never imagine a woman could possibly do." Lowering his head even closer, he spoke with deep sincerity. "It is inconceivable for you to believe for one moment that I could ever wish to replace what I have coveted so desirously and miraculously received."

No sooner had he finished speaking, his hand reached up and clasped her behind her head and drew her face forward to claim her lips.

Darcy proceeded to give her the most mine-blowing kiss she had ever received. Mouth and tongue did not allow any response from her as he fervently took full control of her senses. At length, he pulled back to finish.

"I will thank providence every day for the rest of my life you are no Jane or Elizabeth Bennet or any woman of my acquaintance, past, present and future. You are my delight, just as you are, in every way."

Rising up, Darcy walked over to his grazing horse to bring it closer.

Amanda could not move. She just blinked in stupefaction and wonderment at his speech. _Just as you are!_ His words were singing in her mind repeatedly. Just like Mark Darcy said to Bridget Jones. Oh, how she loved that film!

Darcy pulled her up from her sitting position and effortlessly lifted her up sideways into the saddle's seat. Bounding up behind her, he wrapped his arm just under her breasts, securing her possessively against his chest.

A deafening crack of thunder had their transportation half-rearing and she suddenly came out of her kiss-induced trance. Grabbing the saddle's rim, she shouted fearfully, "Where are the brakes on this thing!"

She felt his warm breath near her ear as he assured confidently, "I have you."

Darcy masterfully brought the beast under control and had it turned and headed towards Pemberley. After a few minutes, Amanda remembered the reason why she came to her decision.

Stiffening, she tentatively asked, "Darcy, what about you turning your back?"

"I was trying to repress the rising mirth caused by your unfortunate slip. How could I humiliate you further with my amusement? I would not conceive of ever doing that to you."

"You wanted to laugh!"

"Forgive me, but yes."

He was not ashamed of her! Reacting to the relief that was flooding her body, she slapped one of his upper legs that were straddling each side of her.

"Oh, Darcy, next time, just let it out. I would have loved to hear your laughter more than anything at that moment," she said. "Come to think of it, I never heard you laugh out loud. Not once."

"I rarely do so. It is undignified."

She frowned. "But I laugh all the time."

"A woman's laughter is music to a man's ears, and I would not wish you to dispense from bringing such delightful noise to mine," he answered.

_Is this man for real? Well, like it or not, you're stuck with me now, Pal._

"That is not fair. What if I want to hear it—your laughter that is?"

He shook his head but said nothing. Crossing her arms before her, she nodded resolutely.

"Well, we'll see about that. Challenge accepted, Mr. Darcy."

"I'll be on my guard, Miss Price."

"Ticklish?"

"Not in the slightest," he said while squeezing her tighter to his chest. "Smiles are allowable, since it is usually an involuntary response. And I might add that you have produced numerous to this man in the preceding weeks."

"Well, you did a good job of hiding them from me."

"Every time I looked upon you and thought of you, I was smiling, Amanda. Sometimes physically, but most of the time, internally. But know this, there is no distinction of your power over me."

"Thank you for that."

He answered by kissing the top of her head. Amanda let out a deep sigh and her body slump further in the saddle, allowing her head to pillow more comfortably on his chest.

After a length of road, her eye lids flashed open and the corner of her mouth slowly curled up.

"Darcy."

"Amanda."

"I bet I can get a smile from you now. Maybe even some laughter."

"And what is your wager?"

"If I win, you arrange for me to meet your tenants again. I want to get it right."

"No wager is needed in order for me to fulfil that request."

"But I want you to take me personally to each farm so I can meet the families of each."

Darcy nodded with approval. "And if you lose the wager?"

"That will not happen, but I'll sing…and dance for you. Privately."

"That is an intriguing prize that I am sure to find most pleasing if won," he said with amused firmness. "Now, Miss Price, how is it to be done?"

"One word is all that it will take."

"One word," he said, sounding doubtful. "Say it then and astonish me."

She paused for a few seconds for dramatic effect and then let him have it.

"Yes."

The horse came to an abrupt stop and Darcy quickly dismounted. Before she could say anything, she found herself being pulled off the saddle and positioned securely in his arms. His hand spanned her cheek, tilting her face upwards to his eager stare.

"Are you certain, dearest Mandy. Speak of it again."

Feeling his impending joy and excitement, Amanda shouted out her answer again.

Darcy's response was not only to give her an incredibly handsome, teeth-producing smile, but also to take her face into the palm of his hands and fused his mouth with hers in reverent attention. He then proceeded to lift her effortlessly up into the air, causing her to burst out in squeals of elation at his 'undignified' reaction.

Bring her down, he continued his way of expressing his jubilance by kissing her more hungrily and murmuring endearments in between breaks. After many moments of releasing withheld passion, he broke and her feet found solid ground.

Amanda's mouth was pleasantly numb and tingly. Wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, she pressed her cheek into his waistcoat. Even through the layers, she could hear his heart drumming, quickly and clearly.

Pulling back from his arms, she looked up to his lightened face. "I love you, Darcy," she whispered breathlessly.

"My heart is not my own. It is all yours."

"I got you to smile. Glad to see you don't have rotting teeth."

"You will find, my dear, that my hygiene habits are immaculate."

"But no laughter," she pouted. "I'll get you."

Amanda found herself slowly moved backwards up against a tree trunk, entrapped between it and his towering body. His face lowered to where his mouth was a breath away from hers.

"You will succeed, this I am sure, but at this moment, no laughter is needed," he proclaimed with proper authority. "I am focused solely on action."

His fingers traced the contours of her face and over her parted mouth. "Do you even comprehend how much I want you, Amanda?"

Another crack of thunder sounded to emphasize his point as his mouth claimed hers again in powerful declaration. As currents of electricity raced up and down her body, she thought that this must be what being struck by lightning felt like.

* * *

That life-altering decision had been made less than a week ago and Amanda was to find that being engaged to Darcy seem to give him justification to take more liberties on her person. He always had a line that he did not cross, but he was proving to be a most enthusiastic and keen lover outside of the boudoir.

How many times had his ardent attentions have her flashing deliciously back to that postmodern moment when he came up from the water with his white, transparent undershirt, clinging to his chiseled chest and his skintight trousers? Enough times to reason that his liberties were most welcomed. There will be no slapping away his hand here!

With that in mind, it seemed even more surprising to her that Darcy's excessive need to uphold all dignity, at all costs, also wavered considerably. She found more precious moments of the evening came after his announcement when they all had risen from the dining table and entered Pemberley's smaller assembly room.

Normally, public shows of affection was not in his upbringing and therefore, not to be tolerated. However, Darcy sought her out and once at her side, his arm secured itself around her waist as people came up to congratulate them. This unconstrained closeness spoke volumes to her. He was proud that she was to become his wife.

Further confirmation followed, when he raised her hand and kissed it, allowing his lips to linger on her skin. His eyes intently fixed on hers; he bent further and kissed her tenderly on her lips before all the guests. There could be no doubt that he had reprocessed his previous objection and took it upon himself to practice affectionate displays in view of others.

This was unprecedented. To Amanda, he was _showing_ them all that she was his. This was significantly more prominent than announcing their engagement with mere words after the dirty dishes were cleared away.

Charles Bingley, seeing Darcy unrestrainted actions, followed suit and planted a passionate lip-lock on the mouth of the unsuspecting Mrs. Collins. Her bold response was to reciprocate, causing gasps to echo throughout the room from those who witnessed it.

The couple, with their reputations already thrown into the pot as blackened, freely ignored the severe exclaims of displaying such open seductions. And if she had pom-poms, Amanda would be exuberantly cheering them to rally with a more shocking public show of affection. But as it was, she forced herself to applaud silently their apparent love for each other.

Yes, the night was going flawlessly, in her opinion. Until now, that is.

* * *

Amanda's mind raced to think of the songs she knew all the lyrics. She apprehensively glanced at Darcy, who sat front and center peering at her with his usual dignified, stony mask.

_No, no, I only smile in private._ _Only for you._

Remembering his words, her eyes softened and her body relaxed. Amanda knew that it was just that—a mask. He became her favorite critic and a vast improvement over that idol judge, Simon what's-his-face, she thought.

Again, her mind flashed back to that mythological, god-like, mortal rising from the water, and the chivalrous prince, riding valiantly to rescue her in the perilous wilderness. Okay, there is no comparison, she thought. Simon could just sod-off!

For all her many blundering faults discovered by Darcy in the past seven weeks, he came to love her just as she was. Sighing, she smiled back sweetly at him. Her Darcy, her hero, her soon-to-be-husband and devoted lover—

"Miss Price, we are waiting."

"Hold on a sec!" she snapped at the familiar voice in the back.

_Wickham! I'll get you for this._

Moments before, Wickham came up to Darcy and her to congratulate them again. Turning to Amanda, he made an elaborate bow and with a hint of amusement told her, "Brava, Miss Price."

Where would she be if it was not for George Wickham? Bastard that he was, she knew she had a good friend in him. At this moment, well, she wanted to smack him on his head and shove him out of the door.

_Okay, Amanda, think!_

To her horror, her quick inventory of songs she knew the lyrics of at that precise moment amounted to only two. Of course, both very inappropriate for this time period. Thanks to the disappointing sequel to _Bridget Jones Diary_, she was certain that Madonna's 'Like a Virgin' would not go over very well.

Therefore, she had to go with the lesser of the two evils. After all, it was a beloved American classic and if anything, it would be amusing. It may even get Darcy to laugh. The only reason she knew the lyrics was that at her company's holiday party, which included Karaoke, she sang it repeatedly in her drunken state. The words somehow were embedded into her consciousness.

Licking her lips, she dredged up the saliva in preparation, took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and prayed that what came out did not mirror the sound of a squealing pig.

_"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch, you really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus; you're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grrrinch…" _

Looking at the gaping mouths and wide-eyed faces as she sang she wanted to shrink off to a corner and smoke a ciggy.

_"You're a monster, Mr. Grinch. Your heart is an empty hole. Your brain is full of spiders, and there's garlic in your soul, Mr. Grrrinch…"_

Her eyes locked on Darcy's and she could not believe it. He had a pursed smile on his face! Okay, more like a contented grin reminiscent of Colin Firth listening to Jennifer Elhe singing in the 1995 version of _Pride & Prejudice_. Nevertheless, there it was, and it was all for her.

_"Ohhhh, your heart is a dead tomato, splotched with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grrrinch…" _

Her heart lightened and she had to admit that after that the rest of the song seemed to come out beautifully, if that could be possible. She finished, while not taking her eyes off of his face, by singing the last line with such feeling and heart that it surely would have impressed that Piers, stick-up-his-bum, Morgan.

Throwing out her arms dramatically out to her sides with palms exposed, she ended with fervor.

_"You're a three decker, sauerkraut, toad stool sandwich with arsenic saaauce!"_

Before she could finish her curtsy and acknowledge the audience's response, Darcy was by her side and directing her away to a corner of the room where he could talk to her privately.

"That was splendid, Miss Price."

"You're teasing me."

"Certainly not," he said with a glint of mirth in his eyes. "Although I must inquire what manner of a man is this Mr. Grinch who obviously offends one so profoundly?"

"Oh, he umm…could say he was a lot like you were in the beginning." His head tilted and he simulated a mock scowl at her. "But he grows a really big heart and eventually improves upon acquaintance a great deal."

Remembering the Dr. Seuss cartoon version she viewed online, and the adorable little blue-eyed, tike holding the red ornament, that stole the Grinch's heart, she stifling a giggle and added, "By the way, how do you like the name Cindy Lou for a daughter's name?"

It must have been the mere mentioning of the prospect of her having his child, or the procreation of, because his face changed from amusement to flamed desire. She recognized that look, and she quivered in anticipation. She was about to embark on some serious snogging with a fictional character from a novel published in 1813—it still boggled the mind.

She watched as Darcy glanced around at his guests mingling to see if anyone was looking. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he directed her into the nearest room, which was a dimly lit library.

Alone, he crushed her to him and passionately took control of her mouth. Amanda returned as much as she got. Bet he was glad now that she was no timid, virginal maiden.

Darcy's heated desire backed her up against the walled shelves, lined with hundreds of books. His arm and hand braced behind her head, while his other appendage encircled her waist, with fingers spanning her backside, slowly inching in a downward direction.

Who would have believe that the arrogant and haughty Mr. Darcy, with his icy exterior, was such a hot blooded man with animistic needs that made her tingle all over, inside and out? Not many, but she was grateful to be the recipient of indisputable proof.

Her hands roamed up his chest, wishing all the while it was bare for her to put her lips on. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair and after a moment, she clutched a handful, pulled his head down from his hungry assault on her mouth, and drew his face to her well-cleavaged chest where he eagerly took the bait.

"Mandy," he groaned, "you are so wild and sweet at the same time. I want you…need you," he murmured on her skin. With that, he redirected upwards to a safer haven, her neck, nibbling and nipping the area. Her knees grew rubbery, but he sensed her weakness and he tightened his hold, pressing her firm to his tall, rock-solid body.

Oh, Elizabeth, you fool she thought, smiling blissfully while he pushed her hair aside and started in on her earlobe. Your loss Lizzy; he's all mine now.

As it always happens, he stopped as suddenly as he started and stepped quickly away as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over his head, dousing his passion. Amanda nearly crumbled to the ground with his sudden departure. Panting, he let out his usual breathless apology.

"Amanda, forgive me. I seemed to have lost all semblance of control, once again."

"Oh, Darcy, it's okay, I wanted it too," she declared, reaching out for him.

Raising his hand before him, he backed away. "Woman, stop, I beg you. I am in no condition to be near you and I fear another touch from you and I will not be able to hold back."

"But Darcy—"

"Madam, I must insist." His strong jaw line tightened in determination. "I accept that you are no longer a maiden, but I will not possess you entirely until we are wed!"

A resonant gasp sounded from the door and both heads turned at once. Miss de Bourgh! The shocked expression on her face left no doubt that she had heard every word of his last statement. Anne quickly disappeared and in unison both their heads snapped back, looking at each other with mouths agape.

Forgetting her pledge to herself, Amanda let out a resounding expletive, which had Darcy nodding in agreement.

* * *

Amanda sat, silently watching, as a tempered Darcy stomped back and forth in the emptied room.

Miss de Bough had expedited her departure with Colonel Fitzwilliam before Darcy could speak to her and shortly thereafter, he prematurely ended the evening and politely herded the rest of his guests out.

He was clearly agitated. Obviously, Anne already knew that Darcy and she were engaged, so it must be about that whole blasted 'not a maid' thing.

Previously, Amanda had told Darcy about his aunt's threat for her not to pursue him. Surprisingly, his response was to calmly tell her not to be uneasy and that he would deal with his aunt. He did not seem concerned in the slightest. And the fact that he announced their engagement with his cousin Anne present, told her that he did not care about his aunt being clued-up to the future event either.

Nevertheless, Amanda was sure that Lady Catherine de Bourgh, once informed of her nephew's engagement to a penniless and barbarous wench, would give birth to a rather large cow and moo out her displeasure. So, the inclusion that she would not be a virgin bride should not matter. Right?

Darcy made it clear how he felt about her past, so the rest can go blow it out of their…hold on, back the train up. Was he anxious about his reputation? Was he concern that his aunt would publicly expose that his intended was sullied and become an embarrassment to him?

Worried now, she asked hesitantly, "Really, Darcy, is it such a big deal?"

* * *

What! Darcy's head snapped around to glare at her. Seeing her befuddled expression, he softened. She did not understand. He was not concerned about his reputation. Although, he was most apprehensive about hers.

It was not her deficiency, being raised during a generation of great technological significance, but degraded moral refinement. His dearest one was an unfortunate product of an unsophisticated and explicit century. Fate twisted the hands of time to allow her to escape such a debauched population.

Acceptance of the remarkable circumstances of her out-of-her-time travel was becoming easier to grapple with knowing from where she was coming from. He was perpetually grateful that she was no longer part of that depraved culture where she could fall victim to any more of its degenerative influences.

Now that she was liberated, his sole occupation will be to safeguard and shelter her from any further harm. With his unguarded statement in the library, he feared he had opened the gates to failure in that regard and it frustrated him immensely.

Where she had been in the gravest of danger in that future, there were still certain unequivocal dangers in his. She had no connections, no family or residence, and worse of all, was no longer virginal. In his society, if discovered, vultures would circle and eventually swoop down and strip her delectable flesh to the bone unless he stood by her side, readied to shoot the scavengers from the air. Lady Catherine would certainly be the first to land. He had to act swiftly.

"Darcy, admit it, you _are_ ashamed of me," she said in a dejected voice. "I would not blame you one bit."

There was that word again. How could she still think that? He rushed to her side and pulled her up from where she sat and engulfed her in his arms.

"Amanda, I find that word offensive and will not hear it from your lips again. If one must apply a word to use in how I feel, let adoration take its place."

She let out a big sigh of relief and he kissed the top of her head. For the moment at least, she was safe. Thinking about the civilization from which she had resided, once married, he would forbid her to go back to that hellish place and the village idiot.

Darcy's blood boiled every time he thought of Dolan. His ungentlemanly conduct went beyond that of a soiled street vermin. He had witnessed, first hand, Dolan's violent tendencies and verbal vulgarities. It was of no surprise why Amanda had to learn defensive dexterity against men for her own protection. Mr. Collin's certainly felt the brunt of one of these abilities.

What hope was there for humanity where the delicate sex had to learn how physically to protect themselves from men? The very thought of such a time was abhorrent to him. Darcy vowed to always make it abundantly clear to Amanda how a real man treats a woman; she would be shielded, cherished and adored by him.

Now, it seemed she might be subject once more to indignity and humiliation. Tightening his hold on her, he agonized. Must she suffer in this age as well? His Mandy must be protected and the way had already been decided that evening with the announcement of his intentions. Time had become the enemy here and he knew how to squash it. Pulling her away to look upon her face he spoke.

"Amanda, become my wife. On the morrow, noonday."

Darcy watched as Amanda's face blossomed with excitement, but her jubilance quickly faded.

"Darcy, Bingley," she reminded him.

Forgetting himself, he let out a frustrated oath.

Darcy had promised to meet with Bingley and his own barrister to complete the annulment process for Mrs. Collins and help settle affairs before he traveled to the Americas. He insisted to take all the expense of the annulment and travel upon himself for his friend and soon-to-be wife. It was the least that he could do after his own actions almost ruined Bingley's happiness. Unfortunately, this would take him away for the most of the day.

Amanda's hand reached up and cupped his jaw, taking him away from his frustrated thoughts and drawing his attention back to her. Her face was lit with a full decorative smiled and large, luminescent eyes, sparkling brightly. It always astounded him her unique beauty that could not be matched. It took hold of him from the very beginning.

"But I think that I am free the next day. How is your schedule looking for Tuesday, Mr. Darcy?"

His lip curved up in one corner. "Most assuredly, I shall make arrangements to be at liberty."

"Tuesday it is and don't even think that Bingley and you can go out and slum around on your last night of freed—"

Ignoring her attempt to tease him he cut her off by taking her face into his hands and kissed her passionately. After a few moments, he raised his mouth from hers and gazed earnestly into her eyes.

"I might add, my darling Amanda, this Cindy Lou is a uniquely beautiful choice of name for our daughter."

Amanda animated face and blissful reaction had worked its magic. Darcy could not prevent his long-absent laughter from reverberating throughout the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**A Bump In The Road**

Listening intently with an ear pressed to the door, Georgiana's girlish mouth dropped. Carefully, she turned the knob of the bedchamber, opening it a crack to peek within.

There was Miss Price, in her nightgown, queerly holding a brush up to her mouth, bounding and twirling around the room, while singing enthusiastically.

"_I made it through the wilderness; somehow I made it through. Didn't know how lost I was til I found you…_"

As Georgiana spied on her brother's guest, she found herself wanting to rush in and join in her exuberance. It would be highly improper, as her brother would most assuredly tell her.

Then again, perhaps not.

Since Miss Price came into his life, her brother had been going through a dramatic and positive change in his overall nature. The usual seriousness of his countenance had been replaced with a lighthearted and kinder side that few had witnessed before. Even the servants and land tenants were whispering about this rebirth.

Georgiana knew that everyone attributed this transformation of the Master of Pemberley to the remarkable woman who was now bouncing jubilantly up and down on the large, four-poster, canopied bed.

"_Oh, you made me feel…oh, you made me feel, shiny and new.__Like a virgin. Oh! Touch for the very first time._"

Suppressing her giggles, Georgiana was excessively glad when her brother informed her that the wedding was being moved forward and he would be marrying Miss Price the next day. Even though she only had been acquainted with their honored guest for three weeks, Georgiana already felt like Miss Price was her beloved, elder sister.

The staff was also alerted to the forthcoming union, causing excitement to ripple throughout the halls of the estate. The general perception was that they highly esteemed the future Mistress of Pemberley.

All would agree, that there was no one quite like Miss Price. She was astoundingly unique, fun spirited, and not in the least boring. There could be no doubt why her brother wanted her to be his life mate.

Moreover, it was because of Miss Price that she was able to resolve some wrongs that she had grievously sown.

* * *

When Georgiana disclosed to Miss Price how she threw herself at George Wickham, she had been non-judgmental. When Wickham downplayed her affections and she told serious falsehoods to get back at him, even then, Miss Price did not condemn her. This reception had been unexpected, and Georgiana was instantly drawn in to look upon Miss Price in awed veneration.

Therefore, when Miss Price took her aside a couple of days later after her arrival, Georgiana listened intently to her enlightening her to the serious repercussions that could have come out of her folly.

Miss Price then set the dramatic scene, with Darcy and Wickham facing off with swords drawn. Sharp steel upon steel echoed in the secluded clearing in a duel to the death.

The brutality of the fight would be revealed with flesh being sliced like a hot knife through margarine, and blood gushing out of veins like water coming out of a tap. Although she had no inkling what margarine or a tap was, she got a vivid, mental picture of the violence.

Miss Price continued with her narrative of the certainty of blood loss, causing one of the two to grow weak and careless. This would lead to the inevitable conclusion that a parry would be unsuccessfully blocked, and the blade would find its mark, piercing through a vital organ.

The unfortunate recipient, whomever it may be, would drop to the ground, dying valiantly without knowing that it was all for a silly little girl's false testimony.

Who would it have been? Wickham? Who thought so much of her that he did not call her out on her false accusations. Or would it have been her dear brother, who loved her so much that he would gladly die to defend her honor? Miss Price then asked her which one she could live with dying for her under those circumstances.

Georgiana's reaction to Miss Price's scenario was acute. She could not contain her tears and cried out her shame for being unspeakably spiteful.

Begging for help on how to make amends, she asked what she should do. A one-word answer came out of Miss Price's mouth—confess. Immediate anxiety grew at the thought of going to her brother, but she had no recourse but to nod meekly in agreement.

Fearing her brother's reaction, she asked Miss Price if she would accompany her. Miss Price then told her that she would on the condition that she address her by her first name, which Georgiana enthusiastically agreed to do.

The door was open to the large, masculine domain, smelling of spice and well-worn leather. Standing tall at the massive window, her brother was thoughtfully looking out over the grounds of Pemberley with his hands casually clasped behind his back. Turning to the sound of a light knock at the door, his face lighted at the sight of the two of them framed in the doorway.

"Ladies, come in. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"A confession," Amanda answered as she pulled Georgiana forwarded.

His eyebrow rose and his head tilted slightly. "Confession?"

"Yes, a confession. Now, go easy on her, Darcy."

He half nodded, telling her with no words that he acknowledged her request.

"Yes, dear brother, I did something very grievous and Amanda has helped me to see clearly that I must make efforts in reconciling with those I have wronged."

His face took on a brotherly seriousness as he motioned her further into the room. Amanda turned to go when Darcy politely commanded her to stay. Stepping back into the room, she took her position directly behind Georgiana.

Coming around from his desk, he leaned on its front center and crossed his arms on his chest.

"What do you have to say, Georgiana?"

Georgiana started to quake in her slippers at the towering man before her and was about to turn around and bolt when she felt Amanda's reassuring hand on her shoulder and her voice whisper in her ear.

"Go on, Georgie, he is more bark than bite."

The girl's courage was renewed with Amanda's steady cajoling. Swallowing hard, she looked up at her brother and started to confess everything.

He listened intently and remained passive as she acknowledged her wrong doing. Finishing, she bowed her head in disgrace and waited for his shocked dismay and stern words of disappointment.

The words never came.

* * *

If Georgiana could have read her brother's mind right then she would be surprised that he was actually berating himself. Amanda had been right. Wickham was not as he seemed. He misjudged him and he realized, excruciatingly, that his sister was not the perfect little girl-angel.

It pained him also to realize that Georgiana's flaws were likely because of his lack of parental prowess. He had ceremoniously overindulged her since their father's death. Nevertheless, what she had done to Wickham was distressing and inexcusable. Furthermore, her deception wounded him a great deal.

Assigning disciplinary measures on Georgianna was a new experience for him. What to do? He glanced at Amanda for any kind of direction.

Knowing instantly what his look asked, her face contorted into comical expression and she shrugged her shoulders. Sighing deeply, he reached out and gently lifted Georgiana's chin to look at him.

In a gentle voice he asked, "What do you think should be done about this, young lady?"

Taken aback by his gentle tone, she whispered, "I must apologize to Mr. Wickham, and promise to behave better in the future and…and…" A sob escaped her and she flung her arms around her brother's waist and pressed her face deeply on his abdomen. "Oh brother, please forgive me for lying to you. I will not do it again!"

Darcy's heart melted as he quickly returned her embrace. Looking up at Amanda, her hands were clasped to her mouth and eyes brimming with tears. The sincerity of Georgiana's regret had its affect on them both. It was a precious moment.

He felt Georgiana press tighter into him as she cried, "I'm so very glad you did not kill him! Oh, thank you, thank you, kind brother!"

Darcy's brows rose as he looked to Amanda for answers.

Amanda smirked, "I told her what might have happened if there had been a duel between you two. I wouldn't have wanted that on my conscience."

He nodded and was grateful, as well, that his first impulse to run Wickham through was put off indefinitely by a recent disclosure that was revealed to him weeks before.

"It's apparent who she believes would have come up the victor," Amanda added. "That must bring some satisfaction."

"Deservingly so," he replied nodding. "While Wickham excelled in dodging activity that involved objects with sharp edges and points, I was committed to my tutelage on defense."

"Sounds like George," she mused. "In a sticky wicket, I'll be standing behind you."

"I will endeavor to protect you with my life," he said seriously. "For existence is wasted without you."

A pinkish flush crossed over on Amanda's face and a warm smile formed on her lips. "At times Darcy, I just can't believe that you are for real."

Darcy wanted to take her into his embrace and prove to her that he certainly was 'for real' but his young sister was standing between them. Instead, he let his smoldering expression convey to Amanda, without words, that he would shortly provide the further evidence she was seeking.

Turning his attention back to Georgiana, he noticed that her sobs had subsided into sniffles. Pulling her back, he looked upon her face. "You are forgiven, Georgiana, from the bottom of my heart, but some privileges will be revoked for your thoughtless actions."

She nodded and choked out, "I accept any decision you make."

He proceeded to name those privileges, including riding her mare and a much anticipated trip to London with him in the autumn. Concluding the pronounce sentence, he bent down and kissed the top of her head, turned her around and marched her out of the door, instructing her that she was confined to her room until further notice.

As Georgiana exited the room, Amanda went to follow but his hand caught hers and drew her back into the room. Shutting the door, he took her into his arms, moved his mouth close to hers, and stopped to whisper on her lips.

"I too, find that the need to confirm you are not a figment of my imagination is ever pressing. Show me, my dearest Mandy, that _you_ are real."

Amanda's face took on a tender expression, as she gently took both sides of his face into her palms and drew him forward to fuse her mouth solidly with his. Darcy's satisfied groan sounded at her sweet method.

When she pulled back, he could not prevent the provoked growl emitting from his throat. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he possessively drew her frame tight against his chest.

"Now, how shall I go about verifying that I am made of flesh and blood?" Ravenous eyes squinted, as a mischievous grin formed on his face. "Ah, you mentioned that my bark is worse than my bite."

Amanda's mouth opened to emit a squeak, as his hold tightened and he bent her slightly back, exposing her neck.

"Let me demonstrate that you would be correct in this assessment."

* * *

Darcy proceeded to exhibit his prowess by starting at the curve of her neck and moving up to inflict a series of nips upon her skin.

Amanda concluded that Darcy definitely favored her neck regions. Oh, he could sink his teeth into her anytime! He would make such a sexy vampire. The words 'bite me' took on a completely new meaning as Amanda's heat began to rise.

Trailing upward, Darcy found her mouth and eagerly took claim. His hold intensified so powerfully that she could not find an opening to respond.

Darcy's fire was all consuming and Amanda felt like she was being burned alive by his passionate flames.

_I want him! I want him so badly! Quick! Bring the temperature down, Amanda! _

Frantically she placed her palms on his chest, and pushed him back, causing a disconnect. "That was brilliant how you handled her, Darcy," she praised desperately.

Her eyes pleaded for him to give her a reprieve and he quickly released her and took a step back, turning away to get control of his own raging desires.

After a moment of composure, he faced her.

"No, no, it was you who brought out the best in me. I would have played the domineering brother and judged her harshly. Your presence in my life has irreversibly been advantageous in bettering my disposition. I even like the alternate address you bestowed upon her."

Amanda's forehead wrinkled. "Alternate address? Oh, the nickname."

"I previously abhorred the use of them, but find I am envious that you have imparted one for Georgiana." His fingers reached out to tease with some of her hair dangling close to her bosom, "Pray tell me, do you not have one for me?"

Trying not to be distracted by his light touch, she put her own finger to her chin raising her eyes as if in deep thought.

"You know I did think of some possibilities."

"Which are?"

"Um…there is Fitz. Oh, I thought that perhaps Willy would be catchy."

His face contorted in distaste. "This is precisely why I dislike the use of such addresses. Willy, indeed!"

Laughing she reached up and ruffled his thick hair. "It will have to remain Darcy then." She caught a flash of disappointment on his face. "But," she added, "when I say it, let it be understood that each and every time I will really be saying my dearest Darcy, whom I love with all my heart."

Disappointment was slowly wiped from his face and replaced with a lazy smile. He took her back into his arms and swung her backwards into a dip readying her for another impassioned assault on her person.

Lowering his head, with his messed hair falling forward, he whispered huskily in her ear that he understood. He then descended to ardently attack her neck again.

"Darcy, remember. . .behave."

Lifting his head, he smirked with a glint in his eye. "I will cease," he said, "but not before I have one last bite."

* * *

Georgiana, ear pressed to the door, covered her mouth in awe to the couple's playful words and then the sounds of their love-making. To her, there was no disputing that this was a great story of romance. It seemed a pity that it could not be shared with the world.

Walking back to her bedchamber, her youthful imagination began to swirl and levitate. Making a beeline for her writing desk, she pulled out a parchment, readied her ink and pen, and drifted off into her own little world of words and wonder.

* * *

Amanda was in the throes of her gleeful rendition of Madonna's 'Like a Virgin' when the sight of a little pert nose in the crack of the door caused her to come to an abrupt stop.

"Georgie!"

Slipping sheepishly into the room, Georgiana faced her with hands behind her back. "Amanda, I apologize for interrupting your exercise, but I came to tell you that there is a visitor to see you."

A visitor for me? Jane maybe, or perhaps it was a delivery from Longbourn. Lizzy promised to send her some necessities, unbeknownst to Darcy. Amanda's eyes lit up in anticipation.

"Who is it?"

"Um…a young lady from Lampton. Her name I did not hear as I was on my way up the stairs."

Amanda saw that the teenager was suppressing a smile and had a little glint in her eye. Okay, she would play along. Climbing off the bed, she went to the dressing room and started to rummage through her newly acquired collection of dresses.

Thanks to her generous host ordering a horde of dressmakers for her, she could provide authentic wardrobes for the entire female cast of the next adaptation of _Sense & Sensibility_.

"Georgie, run down and tell whomever I will be down as soon as I can."

"Yes, dearest sister."

Stopping in mid-dress, Amanda looked affectionately at the girl who was about to leave.

"You don't mind?"

"I think my brother will be most fortunate to call you his wife, and I, to call you sister."

Moisture collected in Amanda's eyes as the first official exchange of sisterly affection passed silently between them. Clearing her throat, she switched her thoughts back to the unknown visitor waiting downstairs. Waving Georgiana off to do as she asked, the young girl nodded and turned to exit. Before closing the door behind her, she stopped.

"Amanda, can I ask you a question?" Popping her head through the dress top, Amanda nodded. "Do you have the lyrics and sheet music for that song you were singing?"

Wiggling to find the armholes in the dress, Amanda imagined Georgiana serenading her brother with Madonna's rather unmaidenly hit. Frowning she answered the teenager with a firm 'no' to her question.

* * *

Amanda came down and opened the door to the receiving room to find Colette, the head seamstress for Lampton's dress shop, standing proudly by her latest work. By her side stood Georgiana, with an exuberant smile on her face.

"Oh, Amanda, are you surprised? Is it not the most exquisite wedding gown you have ever beheld?"

Amanda's eyes widen. Not.

At least she was slowly acquiring the discipline to not say it out loud. Instead, she offered a forced smile and nodded enthusiastically.

It definitely was no Vera Wang, but its rather unappealing appearance improved because obviously Darcy had anticipated, without reservations, that their marriage would most assuredly occur. He must have thoughtfully ordered it made when the dressmakers had come previously to start to assemble a wardrobe for her. That was only two days after she had come to Pemberley.

Clasping her hands together, Georgie confirmed, "My brother ordered in secret when Colette was here last. Look at all the baby pearls and the lace is all the way from Paris!"

Amanda had to remind herself that this ornate and conservative costume was probably the height of fashion for this time, and Darcy would most likely find her breathtaking wearing it. However, she could not help fantasizing Darcy's reaction with her wearing a form-fitting, strapless Alexander McQueen trumpet gown, with crystal embellishments and a heart shaped bodice to emphasize her bosom, which would certainly be heaving emphatically for him.

But in the end, she did not care if Colette held up a ratty, moth-eaten, potato sack with holes to stick her head and arms through; if the result were her becoming Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, she would don it with great pleasure. So, putting on a big 'happy face' for Georgie's sake, she came over and gushed convincingly over the monstrosity.

"Amanda, my brother asked me to give this to you," Georgie said, holding out a note.

Amanda took it and marveled at his bold handwriting of her name on the front. Turning it over she softly ran her finger over the wax seal embedded with the Darcy family emblem. Gingerly she broke the seal and opened it to read.

_Dearest Amanda, _

_ The story of my life begins when we become one. Until tomorrow._

_ Forever yours - Fitzwilliam Darcy_

Clutching the letter to her chest, she smiled brightly and sighed deeply. This is what women want! Every female deserved a man who knew how adore, respect, and romance his woman. Sure, it was a bit sappy, but what hot blooded woman would care?

Remembering Michael's pathetic proposal with him holding up a beer bottle engagement ring, it reinforced her conclusion. Michael's idea of romance was to come over to the flat, drink a couple beers, and belch out, "How 'bout a shag, Mands?"

Michael was a passable lover with his moments. Granted, she had no one to compare it to. She had other boyfriends but Michael was her first to go all the way. It had been clumsy, hurried and, to her great embarrassment, messy.

The feelings she had for Michael, at that time, were genuine and sex seemed the next step up in the process of building a relationship. How could she have known that once the sex happened, the up escalator would start to go down?

After only a few months, she found that their love was really a foolish curiosity and need to be with someone. Their sexual relationship went from sporty and fun to the routine shag here and there. They never really had that all-consuming passion and hunger for each other.

In Austen's world, being exposed to men of honor with the highest of integrity and respect towards the gentle sex, Amanda clearly saw the differences between her feelings for Michael and Darcy.

When comparing the two, she realized that there was an irresponsible physical love fueled by endorphin rushes, and a deep, lasting love that can only be powered by two hearts beating in synch. Now that she felt that emotion in its purest of forms with Darcy, she could concentrate on the physical aspects of the relationship.

This rather extensive evaluation of the makings of a solid relationship came down to one painful conclusion; she wished with all her heart that Darcy had been her first.

There was no doubt in her mind that Darcy did not know how to do 'clumsy' and would have slowly worshipped her body and taken every consideration for her inexperience and discomfort. Amanda let out a deep sigh at the thought of what might have been.

Colette, with her thick French accent, broke her thoughts with a deep sigh of her own. "Oh oui, Mademoiselle, certainly a gown for the angels. It is mon, how do you say, best work?"

Staring at the dress with a chiseled smile, Amanda nodded, thinking that Colette would be aghast to learn that her masterpiece was going to be worn by no angel. Like a virgin, but definitely, not a virgin.

"Let us go fit you, yes?"

Amanda nodded again, still not trusting herself to express her opinion verbally. Maybe she could convince the seamstress to make a couple alterations that would make it a little sexier. Perhaps shorten the neckline a bit and make it a short-sleeved gown.

Then she thought, no, she was going to be happy with the dress as it was. After all, she was only going to wear it once and it definitely left much to the imagination.

The obvious focus here was what would happen to the dress after the vows were spoken and the guests had departed. Either by gracefully falling to the ground or by ripping with little pearl buttons flying, she shivered in delightful anticipation of their first night together as man and wife.

Georgiana had to attend to her lessons. Amanda hugged her and thanked her for her part in the surprise. Colette, followed by her assistant, made their way to her room and went into a scurry of activity in shedding her of her current dress and fitting her into the wedding gown.

"Oooo, Mademoiselle, you are going to look exquisite. It should fit perfectly, yes?"

No, it did not fit perfectly. It was too tight. The long line of buttons on the back could not be closed even with Amanda sucking in her stomach.

"Oh, Miss Price, I do not understand, it is the same measurements as your other dresses."

Amanda was stymied as well. She had noticed that she recently had trouble getting into her other clothes. This was the reason she just pulled the dresses over her head rather than request help from her assigned lady's maid, Pauline.

It was not surprising that Amanda was still not use to having someone attend to her every need including dressing and undressing her. Poor Pauline did not comprehend the mistress wanting to dress herself. The maid would hover and wander around the bedchamber aimlessly, trying to be productive, while the honored guest performed what she was hired to do. Anxiety over what the Master would say p weighed heavily on the maid's mind.

However, Pauline was indeed highly valued; and particularly in one respect. The maid may not have understood the reason behind Amanda's need to apologize profusely each time the chamber pot was emptied, but was certain that the sentiment was greatly appreciated.

Amanda thought that she would have loss weight rather than gained. The dramatic change of diet had caused her to throw up a few times, but that was to be expected. Certain cuisine had her gagging. Trying to down tiny little chickens with the bones still inside did not sit well with her.

She also did not have the endless supply of munchies readily on hand as she did back in her flat's pantry. Her snacking had pretty much come to a dead stop.

Water gain! That must be it. A few days before her monthly visit from Aunt Flo, she would bloat up so much that she had special elastic pants for those days. Mystery solved.

Hold on. Was it really the third week already? But how could that be? She always started in the first week. Last month she was already a few weeks on Austen's time. She had not had her flow since Elizabeth and she exchanged eras. That wasn't right. That meant that—her body stiffened as her heart stopped—she was late.

"Mademoiselle? You fine, yes? You are white as a ghost."

Amanda looked at the woman, but did not really see her. In her mind, she was frantically counting the weeks. Her mouth started to go dry, as the count got higher. Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning causing her knees to buckle. Amanda slumped to the floor in shock.

The last time Michael and her made love was on her birthday, which was nine weeks ago after a celebratory evening out at the local pub. She had woken in his flat with the only clue to what happened being her missing panties and him snoring, naked, besides her. The rest was a blur. Were precautions taken?

With tears running down her cheeks, she knew the answer immediately. Her head dropped to hide her face, distorted with anguish and grief.

This was not happening! Amanda pounded her fist on the floor as a slew of obscenities came pouring out of her mouth that would make a seasoned, stand-up comic blush. Running out of angry words, she resorted to sobbing uncontrollably.

The horrified dressmaker exclaimed, "Madam, please don't cry, we can remedy it!"

Amanda shook her head. This could not be fixed. She was going to have a baby, and the father was not Darcy. And just like that, stark reality slapped her out from her happy dream coma.

* * *

Alone in her room, Amanda sat stoically on the edge of her bed, drained physically and mentally, her face void of all emotion. In her hand, she limply held a letter that was just delivered to her moments before. It was from Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She was blackmailing her.

The witch got right to the reason for her correspondence by informing her that if she did not abandon marriage to her nephew, she would make certain that Jane not only remained married to Mr. Collins, but she would make sure that they lived in squalor for the rest of their lives. Sweet and gentle Jane; this would kill her and it would be highly likely Bingley would soon follow his beloved to the grave.

Oh, but the wicked witch did not stop there. She assured her that she would ruin the rest of Bennet daughters' chances of ever entering into advantageous marriages and make all of England know she was an unchaste woman thus causing Darcy great humiliation.

Then the last threat struck her down even further into the dismal hole. She did not go into details, but she mentioned that she had in her possession letters penned by Darcy's father that would be devastating to the family's legacy.

Amanda was not convinced that Lady Catherine had the letters, and she was certain that something could be done to squash her other threats. But it did not matter. Being pregnant with Michael's baby sealed her fate even before the blackmail came into play.

There was only one thing she could do. Her already puffy and red eyes started to moisten again and tears began to trail down her cheeks. Before the dawn of what was to be her wedding day—for Darcy, Jane, and the Bennets—she had to flee Pemberley and leave all chance for happiness behind.

* * *

A soft knock sounded on the door.

"Amanda? Are you well? I am most concerned."

Amanda's heart dropped further into the depths of her own private hell. She had to leave Georgie too. Jane Austen was haunting her for buggering up her story.

She wished that she never went through that blasted portal. She wished she never met the Bennets or the Darcys. Then nobody would be hurt by her leaving.

Because of her, Georgiana would be without a sisterly influence. The Bennets would not have four daughters still unmarried rather than two, and Darcy would not be in love with an unsophisticated, knocked-up, outsider.

What will happen to them all? What will happen to Darcy?

She knew that she would never get over him and will be heartbroken for life. Would it be the same for him? She just wanted to wake up and find that the past weeks were nothing but an incredible dream. Then everyone would be unharmed and the story would continue as it should have.

Wiping the tears away, she spoke as light hearted and normal as possible. "Yes, Georgie, I am just fine. Just a little tired with all the excitement."

"Can I come in?"

Amanda's brain froze. She looked and felt like she had been in a major wreck. Georgiana would know something was wrong if she saw her.

A light bulb went on and Amanda got up and crossed quickly over to the door.

"Oh, Georgie, you can't come in. I forgot about an old tradition of my family. I can't see any of my future relations from the hour the day before to the hour of the actual marriage."

Glancing over at the mantle clock, she sighed with relief. It was after two in the afternoon. The wedding was to take place at one o'clock. Brilliant!

"You won't be dining tonight with us and Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Collins?"

Crap. Forgot about that.

"No, I won't. Please convey my apologies to them for me." Thinking of Jane, she added, "And tell Mrs. Collins that I think of her as a sister and love her."

"But you can tell her yourself, tomorrow, when you are wed."

"Of course, you are right, but I'd like you to tell her tonight all the same. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I gladly do so."

"Thank you, Georgie. I want you to know that I love you too."

"And I love you, Amanda, and I can't wait until you become my sister. What adventures we shall have together," Georgiana replied excitedly. "Do you have any messages for my brother?"

Amanda's heart felt like it was being sucked down a pipe into the dark depths of her gut. "Tell him that I…I am so sorry," she gulped, while closing her eyelids with dread at her next words, "and that I'll see him tomorrow."

"I will. Good night."

"Good night, Georgie."

After Georgiana left, Amanda flung herself onto the bed and pounded her pillows in despair and frustration. Apparently, life was cruel no matter in what century she found herself residing. Raising her head up, she eyed the writing desk with foreboding. She could not avoid it.

Sitting down at the desk, she took out paper to start drafting the hardest letter she will ever have to write. Not only because she was using a feather tip dipped into a little jar of ink, but also because she had to tell the love of her life, both in her modern day and in this present day reality, good-bye, forever. She did not know how to start or what to say.

After two agonizing hours and many attempts, she sealed in wax her first and last letter to her dearest Darcy. Exhausted, she walked over to the bed and slumped across it, willing herself to please, please, wake up, Amanda. Wake up.

* * *

Knocking on the door, Wickham found it opened quickly and a hand shot out to grab the front of his coat to pull him inside.

Amanda's head peered nervously out into the hallway to be sure nobody saw him. Seeing that all things were clear, she closed the door and turned to face him.

"I need your help, George."

Bowing dramatically, "I am at your disposal, Madam."

"Good. I need to leave Pemberley without Darcy knowing. Early in the morning when everyone is asleep."

"Miss Price, I am all astonishment. I thought it was the groom who is first to tuck his tail under and flee from matrimony."

He regretted his statement immediately as a light sob escaped and her head bowed to hide her face.

"Miss Price, forgive my callous words. What has transpired?"

"Stop calling me Miss Price! I am so sick of it! Amanda!"

Her hands covered her face as her sobs turned into full feminine weeping. Seeing her disheveled state, he realized something was very wrong.

Feeling brotherly, he put his arms around her in comfort and let her cry for a few moments while offering her his handkerchief.

"Tell me, Amanda," he softly commanded.

She did not have to. She handed him de Bourgh's letter and heartily made use of his handkerchief while he read it.

Folding it back up, he threw it casually onto the table near him. "So, you are letting her blackmail you."

"What else can I do? Let her ruin Jane and Bingley's life? The Bennets?" Darcy? I am not that selfish in my pursuit of gaiety. I have to leave him."

"Well, my dear, you underestimate Darcy's authority and influence. He is fiercely protective of those he cares for dearly. By what I have seen, he worships you. If you leave him, it will injure him more than any scandal."

"Don't you think I don't know that? If it was only the blackmail alone, I would probably just go straight to the witch and stick a stake up her bum and throw her on the fire myself."

Wickham smirked. He did not doubt her.

"But it isn't just the blackmail," she added. "There is more, but I can't tell you."

"As you have said once before, I am the right bastard at the right time. Will you not confide in me and perhaps we can find a solution together."

Amanda shook her head.

"There is no alternative?"

"It wouldn't be fair for all involved, especially Darcy."

"Very well, dear lady," he said, nodding his acceptance. Trying to lighten the mood, he picked up her hand and patted it. "So, what adventure should I send you off on? Africa? A jungle safari perhaps?"

* * *

Jungle?

Amanda looked at Wickham and gave him a forced smile. He was not far off. She was returning to the jungle, but it was not in Africa. It was her London.

There was no other way out. She had to escape Austen.

* * *

Amanda sat at the window waiting for Darcy to return. It would be the last time that she would be able to see him and she was not going to miss that last glimpse of him. Oh, she hoped he would be back before dark, so she could get a clear look. Dusk was but a half an hour away.

He would probably be coming on horseback whilst escorting the carriage carrying Jane and Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, who were staying at the inn at Lampton.

Bingley, who normally also rode on horseback, would most likely be traveling in the carriage as well. It seemed he just could not breathe well without Jane within touching distance. She knew exactly how he felt.

A faint sound of wheels and hooves sounded and she looked up and her heart began to pound erratically. She could see a carriage and lone mounted rider coming up the majestic lane. He was coming!

As the entourage approached, Darcy's familiar form began to take shape. Amanda clamped her palm over her mouth to prevent herself from breaking the window and crying out to him to stop her from what she had to do.

Adoringly, her eyes, now parched from being able to cry any more tears, drank him in for the last time as he rode up right below her window.

_Look up, Darcy. I need to see your face. Look up at me._

Her whispered pleas went unheard. He quickly dismounted and escorted his guests inside, and then he was gone.

Moving to the bed, she fell back on the mattress and tried to etch that last memory of Darcy in her brain, along with all the sweet, mind-boggling time spent with him in the past weeks.

The most vivid was that day when she got lost and Darcy riding up to save her. His incredible speech as she sat on the log, and her acceptance of his proposal made that road back to Pemberley smooth and full of promise of a wonderful future together. She had never felt so blissfully happy and carefree in all her life.

There would be no escaping this bump in the road and there would be nobody to save her this time. She determined that without Darcy, she just did not care about what the future held for her. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she thought, a four-legged truck will plow her down and put her out of her misery.

Taking in a deep sigh, she shook her head at the passing thought. No matter who was the father, she would not wish that upon herself for the sake of the innocent baby growing inside her.

She would live for her baby.

* * *

"Amanda?"

Darcy! Amanda shot up from the bed and rushed to the door.

"Darcy, don't come in!"

"I acknowledge your family tradition and will not enter. I wanted to bid you a good night and to give you a package from Miss Bennet."

Gulping, she stood behind the door and opened it a crack so he could pass her the package. Taking it from him, she went to shut the door but stopped as she noticed his hand holding another item. It was a black velvet box. Her eyes widen as the package she held dropped unnoticed to the ground.

"Darcy…I…I don't know what to say," she said, trying desperately not to burst out in tears again.

"Take it, Mandy. I want to see it draped around your graceful neck as we exchange vows tomorrow."

Amanda's lip quivered as she reached to take the box. The second their fingers touched, a sharp electrical current shot through her. He gently turned her palm up and placed the velvet box on it.

"Not one heartbeat, Amanda," he said while caressing her fingers, "By this time tomorrow, you will be in my bed and in my arms and there will never be a door between us again."

It took all her strength to pull her hand away from his.

"I will love you forever, Fitzwilliam Darcy," she whispered. "Never forget that."

Before he could answer, she mumbled a quick good night and shut the door between them. Amanda bit down hard on her lip as she heard him walking away; his footsteps getting fainter and fainter until silence.

Fingering the velvet box, she knew that whatever was inside would cause her to cry. She did not want to cry anymore. She set the box on the bed and picked up the package from Elizabeth.

Untying the binding twine, she found her favorite perfume and some of the items on her wish list, including feminine products. The harsh reminder of her situation quickly killed any joy in receiving the opulent luxuries.

Pulling out one of the pads, she tossed the rest in the room's fireplace. Striking an angry match, Amanda let the flame take hold of the corner of the product. She then threw it into the fireplace; staring until the flames completely rendered the cruel reminders into ash.

Breaking out of her trance, she sighed and turned her attention back to the rest of the contents of Elizabeth's package to her.

At the bottom was a smaller package. Unwrapping it, her bottom lip dropped, allowing a large gasp to escape. Slowly she pulled out a full-length silk, pale ivory nightgown with spaghetti straps and a sheer, flowing lace cover.

The gown's fabric felt like cool water in her hands and the cover was like air. Gone was the unsightly wedding dress, and in its place would have been the perfect gown for their first night together.

Now, only in her fantasies would she be able to see Darcy's reaction. Amanda's mouth clamped shut and her pursed lips quivered with a mixture of anger and regret.

Noticing a note, she opened it.

_Amanda, _

_Happiness may not come the way we imagine. Never question its foundation. Just embrace it when you find it and never let go. _

_ Elizabeth - _

Amanda's determination not to cry again was failing. Slumping down on the edge of the bed, she glanced at the velvet box. There would be no escaping crying again, so might as well let the flood walls spill over.

Opening the box, she had to catch her breath. Inside was a gold chain with an oval shaped locket with delicate white enameled forget-me-not flowers encompassing all sides. Each flower had a petite, yellow diamond in the middle. Engraved on the inside were their married initials. She knew immediately what Darcy intended to go within the locket.

Amanda reached into her dress pocket and pulled out the precious paper stub. _Not one heartbeat do I forget._ She had told him that his words on that little slip of paper convinced her that she never wanted to be without him. Folding it carefully she placed it in the locket and shut it carefully.

Sobbing, Amanda allowed the flood walls to become breached. In her heart, Darcy and she were already married. How was she going to go back and survive without her other half?

Rising up from the bed, she stormed around the room aimlessly, lecturing to herself. She must! She will have Michael's baby and be a good mum. She would not tarnish Darcy any further with her past and ruin his future. She will leave him!

Stopping in the middle of the room, her shoulders slumped. Oh, but poor Darcy. She had been one big tease for weeks and she was just going to poof, disappear from his life just like that. He gave her the perfect gift of his love and the most memorable weeks of her life. What did she give to him in return? Nothing except a pathetic letter with lyrics to a tragic love song written on it. She could not even give him her own words of goodbye!

No! He deserved better!

Amanda angrily wiped the tears away. Fists clenched, she allowed the sadness to be replaced by another emotion—determination.

Looking the nightgown draped over the chair, she nodded in agreement to her sudden decision. Shedding her traveling dress, she picked up the nightgown and slid its silkiness over her head. It contoured perfectly all her curves. Standing before a full-length mirror, she marveled at her appearance. She was stunning! Thankfully there was no indication yet of her present delicate condition.

Misting perfume over her body, she glossed her lips and put on the locket and the lace cover. She was almost ready.

Squeezing toothpaste on the new brush, she began vigorously to clean her teeth. As she swished water in her mouth, she looked up to see the unwavering look on the face in the mirror.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was going to get a visitor tonight. If only for one night, it will be the most memorable night of their lives, and it had to last them forever. Moving over to the bed, she sat on the edge with hands clasped together on her lap.

Looking over at the clock, she realized it was still early. She was to meet Wickham behind the stables right before dawn. In a couple hours, the guests should be gone and the house will be settled.

Amanda took in a deep breath and slowly released. Only one more thing to do—wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**A Losing Battle**

The brilliant moon was full and its light shined a path in the darkness, over Pemberley's well-groomed landscape, and into Darcy's stately bedchamber.

The Master of Pemberley stood at the open window, peering out but not seeing. His mind would not allow him to sleep as it was solidly focused on his union with Miss Price, and the subsequent consummation with her as Mrs. Darcy.

Inhaling deeply of the crisp, night air, he contemplated a lifetime of days and nights with Amanda by his side. It was an exhilarating prospect. A sudden breeze rushed in, teasing his white undershirt, unbuttoned and free from the confines of his form-fitting trousers. The refreshing gust further added to his optimism.

From his viewpoint, he could see the outline of her window from across the way. No light came from within, and he envisioned his soon-to-be life's blood peacefully slumbering in her chambers, for what would be the last time.

Surely, her pleasing form was buried under layers of bed linens and secured inside a confining nightgown. Darcy mouth curled up at the thought, and scoffed at the forced restrictions. The material may have command over her body in both sight and touch, but by this time tomorrow, it will yield its barriers to the proper authority—her husband. It will be him who will wrap her in warmth and security from that night forward.

Amanda will be in his arms, partaking in his deep adoration by coming fully together in the flesh, forever sealing that bond in mind and spirit. It will be the pinnacle night that would define the rest of their lives.

Darcy's chest swelled with anticipation. He was not a man who displayed much sentiment of any kind, but since Miss Price had come into existence in his life, he found himself experiencing a myriad of newfound emotions, with the most extraordinary one being that of love.

Being raised at the highest rank of prominence and wealth, he discerned that it would be his perfunctory obligation to marry a virginal daughter of equal status and impeccable breeding. While his father had a high regard for his mother, Darcy had known that they did not marry for love. Darcy had no illusions that his marriage would be any different.

Other than Georgiana and his parents, truest affection had been a fleeting concept in his life. Thus stated, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was resolved to do his duty and provide the estate with an unimpeachable mistress and, in speaking with the utmost abruptness, breed to produce the next heir of Pemberley.

Anything beyond those basic assurances did not even occur to him. It was this folly in his thinking that made him believe that Bingley could not possibly entertain such an intermittent emotion for Miss Jane Bennet.

Then fate made its overt appearance in the assembly rooms in Meryton, when Bingley drew his attention away from conversing. Turning to the sound of his friend's elevated voice, he beheld Miss Amanda Price for the first time. Although he did not realize it, that moment forever changed his life.

Bingley had charged him of having the audacity to claim Miss Price as his dance partner first, thus thwarting his own solicitations on the young lady. Charles knew that this was uncharacteristic of Darcy, who repeated on numerous occasions that he loathed the activity.

Quickly, Darcy assimilated what had transpired. The false implication from this woman that he secured a dance before an official introduction was brazenly presumptuous. As a gentleman, it would have been within his right to verbally call out such an outrageous impertinence. However, he did not, and in its stead, he said yes, wrongly confirming that he, did indeed, make the request of the lady standing at Bingley's side.

What strange, unforeseeable power, compelled him forward to bow and take Miss Price's hand, he could not know. Ushering her to the floor, he vividly recalled his befuddlement in his spontaneous decision.

As they paraded, it became abundantly clear that she was not of refined breeding and character. Her muddled steps enhanced his appraisal to include a lack of grace in her display.

Darcy promptly concluded that Miss Price was severely lacking and was far beneath his class. To place himself in such close proximity to such a person should have been his every abhorrence. Yet, he could not ignore the strange regard and the stimulating spark that was ignited at the touch of her hand.

Upon further examination, he found that he was appallingly attracted to this singular creature. Miss Price's appearance was vastly foreign and exotic. To say she was pleasing in his sight would be an understatement. What man could ignore her pleasing shape and form?

In his valued opinion, the style and color of her hair, could not go unnoticed as refreshingly unique in its freedom from the customary pinions and silk ribbons. Its softness, he was sure of, and the urge to run his fingers through its length to verify, was grievously inviting.

Miss Price's figure was not proportionate alongside his, but he found this preferable to a taller woman. The petite size spoke of her vulnerability as the weaker sex, but he dismissed this when he saw her large, doe-like eyes flashing with emerald fire as he accused her verbally of contriving to humiliate his friend. Miss Price's quick rebuttal of this charge, had him feeling a curious admiration. No woman had done this before, given his social ranking and status.

Rather than be repulsed, Darcy found that her bravado was exhilaratingly engaging. Her derisive words seem to become muted in his hearing as his sense of sight became mesmerized by the movement of her full, ripe lips. To his great chagrin, he found that he wanted to take hold of her and press his mouth to hers in order to bring about her silence.

Inwardly, Darcy conceded that he was fascinated with Miss Price and for a man of his caliber, it was most intolerable. After the music ended, he expediently made his escape. However, sparks had already found a place to rest.

* * *

When the lady in question was at Netherfield Hall with the ill Miss Bennet; he had the opportunity to observe her more directly.

While he had to secretly acknowledge that her singing voice was delightful, she had not improved in essentials. Because of this, avoidance was prescribed, but to Darcy's great discomfiture, he could not obediently follow. It was maddening that he struggled to invoke indifference and aversion towards this woman.

The higher regard for Miss Price caused conflict and inner turmoil to his system. All sense was dispelled with an insatiable hunger. Involuntarily, he sought to be in the same room as her, and, reluctantly, his eyes stealthily followed her every movement, admiring her comely presence.

She captivated him to the point of wanting to toss her out on her newly assessed, most lovely, bottom. By the time she left Netherfield, the spark was smoldering and Darcy knew that he had a battle of gigantic proportions on his hands.

Then there came a blow when the younger Bennet daughters informed Bingley and himself that Miss Price was engaged to the most ridiculous man in the whole of England. Darcy may have been seen as unaffected by this announcement, but inside he raged. What game was afoot that Miss Price would accept such a man?

The mere thought of Mr. Collin's taking Miss Price to his bed and touching her intimately was repugnant to him in every way. In witnessing the man possessively taking hold of her waist within a few steps from him, Darcy seriously had to resist the urge to violently rip the arm off his body.

It was at this time he started to think that nobody should be intimately acquainted with Miss Price but himself. Darcy was mortified. These revelations were incomprehensible!

And yet, at the ball at Netherfield, when Miss Price had blatantly assaulted Mr. Collin's lower extremities in such a potent manner, he wanted to shout bravo and rush to her side to congratulate her on the broken engagement. In its stead, he did the opposite and performed in a manner that was expected. He had walked up to Miss Price in mock disdain, and asked her to leave the assembly.

Straightaway, he saw the deep hurt in her countenance, and he cursed the ingrained behavior that obligated him to act thusly. As she walked from the room, dejected and subdued, Darcy strained not to take chase and lift her up her into the air and swing her around in response to her exhibition, which he secretly celebrated. Miss Price showed a courageous pluck as he had never witnessed before in a woman.

No individual could ever accuse her of being a mindless, dull and an insipid bore. These traits he loathed in anyone's character. Upon the closing of the door on Miss Price, Darcy knew with certainty that he wanted her back. Only this time, with her standing by his side.

That night, unable to sleep, he relented to the fact that he was losing the battle of taming his feelings for Miss Price. He had to rally and bring about a swift change in the course of the war.

On the day of Jane Bennet's marriage to Mr. Collins, he found the opportunity when she confronted him of cruelly detaching Bingley from her friend. Her declaration that his conduct was not of himself, and that she knew him to be a 'better' man was confusing in the context, but when she confessed that she had dreamed of him since her youth, his heart began to beat more rapidly. Had she just admitted that she had an affection for him? Could it be possible?

For the briefest of moments, he became enthusiastic at the thought of becoming attached to Miss Price. However, Darcy contended with the knowledge that such a union would be considered beneath societal acceptance and his family connections.

What a hypocrite he was!

Days before, he was fuming at the thought of Miss Price attached to Mr. Collins. If seen in a prudential light, the match was advantageous, mostly on her side. Collins would have kept her comfortable under the patronage of Lady Catherine, and gain a higher social status because of it. His approval should have been secured, but in its place, he welcomed the sudden disengagement which all but left her friendless in the world.

Then, with the news that Miss Jane Bennet had stepped in as the replacement bride, he felt nothing but the relief that Bingley was safe. Or perhaps, more that _she_ was safe. On this, Darcy did not try to dwell much upon, but of this he was certain, Collins could not handle such a spirited woman as Miss Price. Darcy reasoned that Miss Bennet was the better choice, in both nature and temperament, and the outcome was how it ought to be.

And to that end, far from Miss Price was where he needed to be. Therefore, he resolved that he must keep the battle line drawn in resisting Miss Price's arresting hold on him.

That day, standing at the window and watching the throng of wedding guests leaving, he let her berate him for his role in _saving_ his friend from a union with, the newly wed, Mrs. Collins. Her voice echoed in his head on how she had idolized him, causing anger to build up inside. The anger was not because of their heated debate; his anger was because he had no plausible defense against his ever increasing need and affection for her.

Insensibly, his emotions erupted with stabbing words.

_Madam! Behold Fitzwilliam Darcy, I am what I am. If you find yourself unable to get at an alternative version I must own to being glad. I despise the intrusions of a woman so singularly dedicated to audacity, disorder and lewdness. They repel me. You repel me. You are an abomination madam. _

Her wounded expression spoke clearly of his victory, but she could not have known that as he left the room, he desperately wanted to turn back, take her into his arms, and plead for her forgiveness and mercy.

However, his concentration endured and the closing of the door behind him closed the chapter of the enigma of Miss Amanda Dawn Price from his life forever. He was confident that he would not see her again.

Unfortunately, his confidence soon waned. The smoldering spark had turned into a raging blaze that day, and ironically, Miss Price became _more_ of a permanent fixture in his life—in his dreams and fantasies.

Included was the bitterness of regret in regards to her. It followed him like a shadow. His unpardonable words haunted him because it was not in his heart to say them.

Darcy rationalized his insulting and criticizing, in such an ungentlemanly-like manner, as being his only recourse in escaping this foreign beauty. An unrelenting doubt invaded his psyche, questioning this want and need to escape her in the first place. Not to be undone, Darcy became determined to eradicate the lunacy from his tormented mind.

It was a struggle in vain; his want and need to see her again became excruciating. Because of this, Darcy was not himself. He spent hours with his physical activity, and prowling the grounds of Pemberley like a wild beast looking for his mate. When relief was not found, he elevated his level of drink to numb his longings.

Staff took to avoiding him religiously because of his ill temper towards anyone who crossed his path, and his preoccupation had tenants redirected their concerns to the Steward rather than approach the Master during this volatile time.

It was in the night that he became drenched in her ghostly influence. Darcy dreamed of her fiery spirit which fueled his desire even more and what it would be like to have her surrender to him, kiss her lips and to take her into his embrace.

Wanting to avoid sleep to exodus the unrealized visualizations, Darcy took frequent trips to the water hole that Wickham and he discovered as young boys. Only diving into the cool waters seemed to quench his passion for Miss Price.

Then at RosingsPark he went through the unmitigated, sweet agony, of seeing her again.

He found that Miss Price was vastly altered. She provoked in him an infuriation with her withdrawing into a docile, proper young lady, to whom any new acquaintance would admire and respect. Who would be so bold as to instruct Miss Price in such a mockery of her true self? Inquiries revealed the answer. Wickham! Blast him to hell and back!

This disclosure only induced a more torturous need to expose her façade and coerce the authentic Amanda Price to reappear. Darcy could not ignore the cruel irony that it was this version he preferred and had grown to appreciate. Thankfully, that version was not buried so deep that it could not show itself during her attendance with Mrs. Collins and subsequently, RosingsPark.

Miss Price's sparring and unchecked conversation with him in the dining hall was thoroughly diverting. Her sparkling eyes were mesmerizing, and her voice, musical. Even the sting of words from her perfectly formed mouth, provoked his thoughtful reflection rather than haughtiness. Anything that had been considered disagreeable from her became adorable and alluring.

Darcy may have eluded to being displeased with her company, but he knew that it was quite the opposite. A high tower was where he wanted to whisk her away, where he would lock her in his embrace, preventing all modes of escape. However, it was that pitiless propriety that succeeded to wrench Darcy away and place distance between them again. To be sure, the pain was acute.

Then came Miss Price's kindness towards Charles after winning his father's gold heirloom. Her devised excuse in saying the game was practice, spoke of her compassion and care for others which endeared her more to him. Would any at that table so willingly have parted with such a valuable prize? Darcy, knew the answer—no.

Standing at the mantle, watching her push the Hunter back towards its rightful owner, Darcy felt an overwhelming pride in her noble actions. How he longed to corner her away, hold her tenderly and whisper his approval in her ear. In his imaginings, he then would draw his lips down to kiss the curve of her smooth neck in mutual reward.

Bingley's sudden rise and departure from the gaming table cleared the delightful distraction expediently from his mind, and he followed his friend out of the room. There, outside the walls of Rosings, with Charles damning him, Darcy finally came to the comprehension of the pure suffering of his friend.

Darcy's frustration became unbearable when he had to concur with Miss Price that his interfering actions, where Bingley and Mrs. Collins were concerned, were dubiously wrong. His frustration was founded on the reality that he could not readily repair the separation. Darcy desired to bring about a resolution for the couple and restore their lost happiness, as well as, fulfilling his selfish longing to see favor in Miss Price's eyes for bringing it about.

He thought that perhaps he could arrange a duel with himself and Collins. The buffoon would certainly falter, making Mrs. Collins a widow, and freeing Bingley to wed her after the mourning period had passed. Darcy shook all debauched thoughts from his head. Good lord! How could he even think to plot such a heinous event? Had he lost all moral sensibility?

After he watched Bingley ride off to drown his sorrows with Wickham, an unprecedented realization occurred. Closing his eyes, a vision of loveliness appeared, and he knew for whom he schemed and planned. For the first time in his life, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was irrefutably and utterly in love with her. Amanda. The one that must be loved.

* * *

It was there, at Rosings Park, that Darcy acknowledged defeat and waved the white flag, inviting Miss Price, and inadvertently, Mrs. Bennet and her daughter, to Pemberley.

The unbelievable chain of events and futuristic disclosures that occurred after, were to eventually lead to his ultimate heart's desire. In less than fourteen hours, he will take to his bosom the woman who possessed his mind, body and soul so completely that he didn't think he could breathe without her.

It was quite impossible to comprehend, but soon, he would transform into the kind of man that he never thought was rooted in his nature to ever become. That kind being—blissfully happy and contented.

* * *

Darcy heard the door to his room shut quietly which broke him out of his thoughts. Turning quickly, his eyes fell on an apparition of exquisiteness and fairy-like loveliness standing just inside his chamber's door.

Entranced, he took in a large intake of breath as she approached him slowly. An inviting and intoxicating scent intensified as she got closer, impaling his already stimulated senses. Then the vision was standing before him, silently looking up at him with moonlit, emerald eyes, filled with innocent devotion.

Was this another fantastical delusion? Do not touch her, he thought. She will disappear into the night. Swallowing hard, Darcy could not resist the desire that overruled all caution.

Tentatively he reached out, touching the locket nestled centrally in the apex of her bosom, and feeling its cool surface. Still not convinced, he trailed his finger down to the warm skin and the silky line that barely covered the rise and fall of her heaving breasts.

Darcy's hand jerked away as if he had been struck by lightning. His deeply held breath was released as his heart began to drum loudly inside his chest. His arms dropped solidly to his sides.

"Amanda, you must leave," he said huskily. "As you are, I do not know if I can control—"

Standing up on her toes, she silenced him by placing her fingers on his lips.

"No, Darcy, why must I leave? For this is your Amanda before you. The one that must be loved." Moving her hand, her palm cupped his cheek. "Love me, Darcy. Please…now."

Her gentle command made his pupils widen with unbridled desire, but his jaw clenched with restraint. The hesitation was brief, but seemed like an eternity. Proper sense returned, allowing him to passionately deny her.

"No!"

Before she could say a word, he swung her up in his arms and moved determinedly towards the door.

* * *

_What the hell!_

In the modern world, how many men would be so bloody principled? Not very many, that was for sure. Proud, obstinate man! Lord, how she loved him for it.

Any other time, she would soak it up; this respectful, gentlemanly behavior, but not tonight. Darcy needed to get a taste of her world, and take what is offered while he can. She had to convince him!

_Amanda, kiss him like he has never been kissed before! Quick!_

Grabbing both sides of his face with her hands, she let him have it; devouring his mouth like a starving waif. Surprise had Darcy almost dropping her, and he came to a dead stop to steady himself.

Her tongue meshed cohesively with his, preventing any protests. The only rebuttal was the rumbling groan that emulated from him, telling her triumphantly that her best efforts was working.

Both of her hands moved upwards to thread through his hair. Grabbing hold of its thickness, she found it possible to draw him deeper into her hungry kiss. His tall frame reacted by stiffening at her passionate ambush, tightening his hold to prevent him from releasing her.

Amanda thought she heard him mumble a plea to his Maker, as he found an opening to return her heavenly onslaught, taking command of the direction of the fusion of their mouths. Both gasping for breath, he gave them both respite by burying his face into the curve of her neck to rest.

"Amanda, we must stop," his hot breath murmured against her skin.

Taking his face into her hands again to get his attention she looked deeply into his eyes. "In my heart you are already my husband. What if something happened to one of us and…and we were parted from each other forever." Amanda felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. "Allow me…to give myself to you, Darcy. It is all I have."

"Dearest Mandy, I would not allow anything to occur to separate us. It would be quite impossible for anything to happen from this moment until we are wed. You are safe."

Impossible! Was it impossible that she would come to live in this beautiful world of Jane Austen? Was it impossible that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy would come to love her instead of Elizabeth Bennet? Yes, impossible. Yet, both events happened.

"I will never trust the impossible again," she whispered, with a single tear falling. "Take me to your bed, Darcy."

Darcy face was thoughtful for a moment, then his mouth pursed into a tight line. Shaking his head, he made for the door once again.

Panic struck Amanda. "Either take me tonight or…or…I will not marry you and…I'll go back to my London and…and…Michael!"

Stopping again, he looked at her with doubt. "What sweet extortion is this, Amanda?" he asked calmly. "Why have you placed such importance in consummating our union when we are but a half a day away from making it official? Is there something you are not telling me?"

Amanda's mind went blank. How was she to answer? The vision of Sally Hawkins as Anne Elliot, and her reply to the second proposal from Captain Wentworth, played by Rupert Penry-Jones, suddenly came to mind.

"I am determined, Darcy," she said resolutely. "And to be sure, I will not be persuaded otherwise."

Darcy's chin lifted, peering at her under shadowed eyes. He was trying to figure her out. That's it. He was deciding. Just a little more convincing.

Running her hand up his shirt, over his shoulder and into his hair in the back of his heads, Amanda lifted her mouth close to his ear.

Seductively she whispered, "Have we not found that time does not matter in our two worlds? Why let time deprive us of these hours together?"

Slowly, Darcy lowered her to the ground. He was weakening. Standing before him she gulped. Now, to bring him home with words that she knew would have him cracking under the pressure.

Amanda knew that by saying them, she would be positioning herself into his heavenly embrace and then after, fall down into the cold depths of hell. It was cruel, but what else could she do to convince him to make love to her?

Rising to her toes, she lightly kissed his firm lips, parting just enough to speak the words.

"Let us create more than just memories," she whispered. "Darcy, our Cindy…Cynthia Louise awaits to see her papa."

* * *

Upon hearing the name from her lips, Darcy could not contain himself any longer. Crushing her to his chest, he found her mouth and took command with redirected vigor.

He already had lost his will to take her back to her room. What if she was right? Thinking about the miracle of how she came to be in his life, was he willing to gamble on that impossibility of her suddenly leaving it? No, he was not. Therefore, he had already decided to acquiesce to her sweet demands.

Any remaining logic and restraint was cast out at the very thought of him planting his seed, and it growing inside Amanda's womb into their beautiful daughter. A singular form of lunacy overcame him, and he was frantic to take her—here and now—without an instant to lose.

With a gentle firmness, Darcy gripped both of her upper arms and drew her back from his mouth. The intensity in his eyes, laden with starving passion, did not match the low whisper that escaped from his lips.

"Her existence will surely come into being, my fairy." Lowering his head enough to touch his mouth to hers, he lightly nipped and tasted what he was about to devour again so enthusiastically. With a slight upturn of his lips, he peered into her beautiful eyes and added confidently, "Tonight."

Before she could speak a word, he sealed his mouth solidly with hers and started to lay the foundation of his own existence from that moment forward.

* * *

**Author would like to thank JennieBF for editing suggestions and corrections in this chapter. Such a nice lady from Britain!**


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter Four**

**Oh, What A Night**

Finally, she would be his.

This was the only thought that was flashing in the interior of Darcy's mind as he voraciously took of her sweet offerings.

Absently, he shed the outer, lacy layer that she wore, letting it drift to the floor, leaving only the shimmering, silky gown separating him from her cool skin.

For the first time, he allowed his hands to engulf territory on her body that remained unchartered. Stimulus of the touch and feel of these newly discovered soft places caused a rumbling from deep inside to surface. He wanted to bury himself within her and never surface again.

Standing together in the middle of the room, greed and want favored all sense of control, causing him to compress her tightly to his tall frame, as he demanded absorption of their flesh. Animalistic in his need, he growled triumphantly at becoming quenched.

Moving to advance his exploration, he felt a sudden resistance from her, forcing him to stop abruptly. Before he could ask her why, he found her soft palms taking up his face. Her eyes captured his as she tenderly kissed him, whispering on his lips.

"Darcy, I will always consider you my first, and no matter what happens after tonight, your name will be on the last breath I take. No love, physical or emotional, can ever replace what I have with you."

The shine in her eyes was brilliant but not from passion, but with unshed tears. It startled him. He took up her hands and brought them together to kiss her fingers.

"Amanda, look at me." Emerald eyes lifted. "Why the threatening tears?"

Her reply was to drop her eyes to focus on his chest while shaking her head in her reluctance to speak. Darcy bent his head to try to look upon her face.

"Mandy?"

Standing up on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the curve under his jaw. Tenderly, he returned her embrace, feeling acutely her body trembling with emotion. Concerned, he distanced her from him and lifted her chin to look upon her face.

"Speak of it," he commanded gently.

"I love you so much. I'm overwhelmed, and so afraid—"

"Of what, my fairy?"

"Of never feeling this way again. That's all," she murmured, bowing her head to rest her forehead on his upper torso.

This time he raised her face with both of his hands to search for more enlightenment in her expression. He lost his breath at what he beheld—a deep innocence and devotion etched on her face. Was there sadness there, as well? Or was it this fear that she spoke of?

His recourse was to kiss her long with reverence, taking time to instill assurances of his own constancy towards her.

Breaking, he heard her exhale a deep sigh. Laying her hands on his lower arms to provide further support from her weakening legs, her eyes lifted to his, and gave him the lightest of smiles.

"I'm okay," she assured sweetly. "I'm ready now."

Her behavior and simple words struck him into realizing that she was not the mature, experience woman he expected, but still child-like, and vulnerable. His heart swelled with the knowledge that in so many ways, he would be her first lover, and after their nuptials, her last.

Inwardly, he rebuked the false assumption that had secretly haunted him these past weeks. Not a maid? Seen in this revealing light, she was a true innocent; never properly loved and cherished, as she should have been.

At that moment, the ravenous need to possess her softened, and all thoughts turned to not what he desired, but what she needed from him to extinguish all her fear and anxieties.

With controlled deliberation, Darcy lifted her up to cradle her in his arms, not letting their eye contact to be broken. Slowly, he stepped towards the bed, noticing a single tear trailing down her cheek. Laying her down on the soft surface, he kissed it gone.

Straightening to unbutton his undershirt, Darcy glanced down at Amanda. She was subtly trying to position herself in an alluring manner on the bed. In her nervous awkwardness, he could clearly see that she was failing in the attempt.

Turning sideways to allow her more privacy in finding a composed and 'seductive' stance, he fought his rising mirth at her naïve effort. She could not possibly be more precious to him than she was at that moment. Peeling the shirt off, the thought eased him into the determination that this night was for worshiping her and catering to her needs. His own, would wait.

Turning back towards her, she snapped into her chosen position—lying on her side, with her bent arm and hand supporting her head, and the other arm draped casually along the length of her body's curves.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he cupped her cheek, bending to kiss the top of her bare shoulder, and then moved over to take her mouth. His hand moved down to cup one of her soft mounds causing her to let out a surprised squeak. Involuntarily, he grinned broadly while their lips still were meshed.

"Darcy," Amanda exclaimed, "I felt that! You're smiling."

Lifting his head, he kept his smile present on his face for her. "Why should I not when your mouth was most welcoming? But ripe and sweet as your lips are, it is the sudden comprehension that produced the reaction."

"What comprehension?"

"That as I make love to you for the first time," he said with confidence, "that I have every reassurance that you are my truest, predestined love." Kissing the top of her nose, he added, "And that she, whom I shall treasure more than the air that I breathe, is a maiden in her heart, made ready for my keeping."

"Really!" Amanda gasped out while quickly raising herself up, causing his head to jerk back in surprise. "A virgin!"

Darcy opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, her arms flung around his neck to hug him tight.

"I am convinced," he confirmed simply.

Pulling back, she looked at him. "Do you really mean it?"

With her need for further assurance, Darcy felt ashamed that she had experienced the severe weight of being labeled not worthy. It was cruel and thoughtless of him, or anyone else, to presume her unqualified to be adored.

"Forgive me, Mandy, for not seeing that innocence is not only physical. Men are hypocrites, and none more than myself," he said while gently moving her hair off to the side of her face. "Opportunity and urgings went unchecked in my youth. Can I come to you guiltless? No, I cannot. I was flawed in my thinking."

Darcy watched as her face light up like an elated child, and her threatening tears, spilled freely, not with sadness, but with a joyful relief.

"Oh, Darcy," she sobbed out, "you made me so happy to hear you say that."

Laying her back down, his thumbs wiped the tears from her eyes, then followed the contours of her face, down to the crux of her throat where the locket rested.

"Let me demonstrate an entirely new level of happiness I can give to you," he said in a seductive voice. "Shall I continue?"

Darcy watched in awe as, even in the dimness of the moon lit room, her cheeks flush a deep, pinkish hue. She nodded rapidly, with a clear expression of excited certainty and trust.

Moving his finger up, he hooked the gown's strap on her shoulder and drew it down her arm. He started the trail of his mouth from her collarbone, down to the flesh being uncovered.

He pleasured, as her fingers threaded through his hair. The instinctive arching of her back in response from his administrations, stoked the building flame.

Within a short span of time, as anticipated, the gown's fabric yielded at his authoritarian touch, revealing her natural glory. Desirous to feel his natural self blanketing her in warmth, Darcy stood and fluidly rid the barrier of his trousers.

Sensing motion on the bed, he glanced over at her. It was obvious that her modesty had demanded attention for she had moved to lean up on the bed board so she could cover her bosom with her arm and use a bent leg to cross over to hide the apex of her womanhood.

Smirking, his eyelids lowered. Indeed, like a virgin, to be touched intimately for the first time by an expert hand. Dolan had been but a boy, highly incompetent of bringing an unparalleled woman like Amanda into full womanhood. Darcy was confident that her memories of this buffoon will be replaced with accolades of a real man—a lion king of strength, power and dominance.

On this night, he will saturate her completely in his masculinity and see her completely satisfied, thus laying claim on her as his chosen mate—his lioness queen. The thought caused his heartbeat to start pounding more rapidly in his chest.

Standing tall before her, there was no doubt of his manly need for her. He was vastly pleased by her reaction. Her eyes became round globes, her cheeks flamed, and the bottom of her lip dropped.

The corner of his mouth turned upwards. "Is that—"

"Darcy!" she interrupted breathlessly, "Don't you dare ask if that is agreeable."

Chuckling, he climbed over to her on the bed. Effortlessly, he pulled her forward until she was lying flat, and proceeded to ease his weight down upon her while stroking and kissing her in preparation.

Hesitantly, Amanda's voice whispered in his ear, asking him what she could do to for him. His head snapped up to look at her. Did he hear her correctly? Her questioning eyes indicated that he did.

Not only did she want his instruction, further convincing him of her overall inexperience with men, but also her thoughtfulness in wanting to reciprocate in pleasing him spoke of her selfless nature. He was deeply humbled.

"No, no, this time is for you. Allow me the honor of demonstrating my undying devotion and fidelity."

Amanda's fingers moved across his forehead to push fallen hair from his face. "Mr. Darcy," she whispered, "I am the one who is honored to be loved by you. You are my every dream come true and the most amazing man I will ever meet. Tonight, I gladly give you all that I have."

Darcy was completely lost for words, and could only stare deeply into her eyes.

"Darcy?"

Blinking out of his trance, he grabbed her up and crushed his mouth to hers, letting his actions speak the words he could not find to say.

Taking her back into his arms, he vowed repeatedly to make her happiness—forever and a day.

* * *

Finally, she would be his. Even if it was just for one night.

As Darcy ravenously kissed her in the middle of the room, Amanda's legs began to wobble uncontrollably, and her stomach started too churned with insecurities and doubt.

What did she really know about sexually pleasing a man like Darcy? Will I disappoint him? I'll do something stupid or embarrass him in some way. What if he doesn't like how I look naked? Maybe I should have shaved more off down there. Does he like bushy?

What was wrong with her? For a second she went blank, and then just like that, she knew. She was terrified.

This night was her everything. Nothing after it, except for the child she was carrying, mattered. Will she ever find a man in modern times like him—another Mr. Darcy? The question was ridiculous to even ask. From the very beginning, she knew that this man would be irreplaceable. Moreover, will she ever love another man like she loved this man? Again, stupid question.

And Darcy. Will he think her a harlot for this one night of passion, and then abandoned him at the altar? Will he be heartbroken for the rest of his life, like herself, or will he end up despising her for leaving him and move on by marrying a bona fide, blooming maid.

Regret flooded her system again. Oh, why couldn't he have been her first? At least he would know that she had given that one-time gift of herself to him. Furthermore, his memory of her would not be as a soiled and unchaste woman. Amanda started to feel the tears forming in her eyes.

Madonna's lyrics started to echo in her head as his hands freely roamed and he kissed her deeply. The words really rang so true; Amanda could not see it in any other way. She truly felt virginal.

Before all control was lost, it became imperative for her to tell him. Placing her palms on his chest, she gently pushed herself away, causing him immediately to stop his impassioned assault. The break gave her the opportunity to take his face into her hands to focus his attention on what she was about to say.

_Darcy__, I will always consider you my first, and no matter what happens after tonight, your name will be on the last breath I take. No love, physical or emotional, can ever replace what I have with you._

Then the most amazing thing happened. He agreed! Darcy softened and said that she was his truest, treasured love and that he believed her a maiden in her heart. To hear him confirm how she was feeling, brought tears of joy. Then he apologized for being a hypocrite because he shagged previously and was experienced.

The validation of his affection and the confession meant so much to her. After weeks of feeling inadequate, she finally felt herself on equal ground with Elizabeth and Jane. It seemed to qualify her to be worthy to be loved by this extraordinary man.

Right after that thought, as if on queue, Darcy swung her up into his arms to carry her over to the bed. A stray tear made a path down her cheek. Laying her down on the bed, Darcy tenderly kissed it gone.

This was really happening, Amanda thought as he stood to take his clothes off? As he peeled his shirt from his magnificent chest, she felt her virginal heart start racing a kilometer a minute.

* * *

Later, one indisputable truth of reality could no longer be altered and would be forever engraved in her memory—Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Jane Austen's novel, _Pride and Prejudice_, had just made the most incredible love to her.

Experienced? Oh, yes! Love her well? That, he most certainly did!

Amanda got the impression that during this era, everything that had to do with sex would be reserved and perfunctory. The sexual revolution would have probably killed the majority of the population due to the shock of it, but Darcy had proved that his dexterity was up-to-par with modern practices.

The colossal difference was that he performed with a style and grace that would have any woman clinging to him, and wanting more. In addition, his eloquent words had her melting like wax to a flame.

To be loved like he had loved her, was something she was sure that no man, no matter what his experienced was, could possibly have performed in reality. Ironically enough, Amanda believed that it could only be found in the pages of the most romantic of novels or sigh-producing, films.

It was like all those love scenes she loved to watch and read, over and over again, were being melded together into one powerful, momentous act. Even then, she was not sure if it could compare to what she experienced with this man.

And that remarkable moment, right before they came together, his gentled voice commanded her to open her eyes.

"I want to look into your eyes as we become one," he breathed with emotion, "and know that my life is yours, forever and a day."

Before she could drop her mouth in awe, he joined his body with hers, causing her to gasp at the immediate blast of fulfillment. Straight away, Darcy proceeded to deliver the physical pleasure by conducting with perfection a rhythmic, fleshy symphony.

To say that they both climaxed was not enough to describe what occurred. With Darcy's heated eruption, she had her first real internal earthquake with shuddering aftershocks.

_Unreal! Who would believe that Austen's literary creation is a sexpert? _

Was there such a word? Well, that was what it felt like, Amanda thought to herself as they both rested from the amazing experience.

After another moment of basking in absolute satisfaction, a blurred face flashed for a second in her mind. Oh, poor Michael! He had no idea how he was lacking compared to her eighteenth century gentleman.

Lying halfway on Darcy's torso with her leg entwined with his, Amanda finally was able to touch and savor his upper body with her fingers. Her palm moved over his ribcage in exploration, then over his heart to enjoy the new sensation of a large thatch of hair that covered the area.

His hand came up and took hold of hers, bringing it up to his lips to kiss her fingers, then held it close to himself. Amanda sighed and rested her head over his heart. Its beat was loud and steady, but his overall silence began to trouble her, and her insecurities flooded back.

Finding the courage, she crept further up to position herself closer to his face.

"Darcy?"

"Yes."

"Um…was it…well, agreeable?"

His laughter was the very last thing she expected. Seizing her up into his arms, he kissed her long and hard while rolling her over onto her back. Bringing her up into a sitting position, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, closing the gap of space between their bodies.

"Most agreeable, and I am hungry for more," he said as his head dipped to nuzzle at her neck. "You are that perfect blend of spices and delightful delicacies that make you irresistible."

"Did you just compare me to food?"

Darcy did not look up as he began to nip at her skin. "Which I plan on savoring again and again, for I am famished."

_Famished? I'm starving! _

In a move that was more impulsive than planned, she grabbed hold of his shoulders, and with a strength fueled by the want to excite him, she turned the table by flipping him onto his back.

Darcy grunted out his surprise as she pinned him down and straddled his waist. Palms flat on his chest, she bent to eagerly kiss his mouth while her long hair, softly fanned his face.

Amanda wondered if he would appreciate her aggressiveness. A few seconds later, he answered with his groans of desire, and his hands eagerly clutching her hips to encourage the motion of her pelvis.

Never had she thought to do this with Michael; he always preferred to be on top. But Darcy had awakened the Tigress in her, and like any she-cat—with claws unsheathed and teeth bared—she went for the throat, determined to show him who had the better bite. Gripping fists full of his hair to pull back his head, she exposed more of his neck for her to attack. Unlike Darcy, she intended to leave a mark to prove it.

"Mandy! What sweet madness is this?" he sounded out with passionate inquiry. "What are you doing to me?"

Beaming, Amanda raised just enough to speak intimately in his ear. "Don't you know, my dearest Darcy," she mewed sweetly, feeling his readiness. "I'm eating you alive."

At that, she consumed entirely what was on her plate

* * *

Amanda listened to his heart hammer loudly until it slowed to a low, steady beat. Looking at the clock, she closed her eyes in dread. Holding back the tears, she tried to sound as normal as possible.

"Darcy? You awake?"

"Yes, my fairy," his answered without opening his eyes.

"Don't go to sleep, okay."

His eyes flashed open and a sly grin immediately appeared.

"Oh, no, I will not."

Snaking her waist, he twisted her until she was on her back, and they were face-to-face; his heavy frame entrapping her underneath. Mischievous eyes locked on hers.

"You have surprised and delighted me beyond any imaginings," he said as his hands started its parade around on her body, "but I am eager to retrace the peaks and valleys of my beloved at a more leisurely pace."

Sighing, she smiled at him. "I love your pillow talk, Darcy," she said while running a finger over his mouth. "It's poetry out of a book."

"I like this expression…pillow talk. However, the mention of the book is tempting me to take you away from the softness of this bed."

"What? I don't follow you."

"An unfinished fantasy."

A look of surprise crossed her face. "You have fantasies?"

"Am I not allowed?"

"Well, yes, but for some reason I thought that maybe they would be considered…um…undignified."

"Did I not fulfill one of your fantasies without question?"

"Oh yes, tonight was everything—"

"No, no," he interrupted with a grin, "I am referring to Poseidon rising from the watery depths. Was that not a fantasy?"

Giggling, Amanda nodded. "How could I forget? Okay, you win. What do I need to do?"

Darcy rose up from the bed and held out a hand to her. "Remember the night of our engagement?"

Nodding, Amanda allowed him to help her up from the bed and lead her to the living area of the room.

"Please don't make me sing again," she begged. "I'd rather do cartwheels butt naked."

A wide grin formed on his face. "Later you will have to explain what a cartwheel is, for any action in your present state of undress would assuredly be worthwhile, but no, I was thinking of our time in the library."

"Oh, the bookcase," she said with relief. Looking around, she frowned. "I don't see a bookcase."

Taking possession of her waist with one arm, he proceeded to back her up against the only part in the vast room with a wall void of a legged obstruction or hanging embellishment.

"No bookcase is needed," he assured with a glint in his eye. "I have repeatedly dreamed of finishing what was begun that night."

Amanda knew where he was going with this, and her heart began to thump erratically.

Once, Michael attempted to make love to her in the lift of the building where his flat was located. All she got out of it was a badly bruised bum, and him, compliments of a stuck zipper, literally a bloody mess. Three stitches and a plaster on his penis later, had him shying away from being sexually spontaneous from that day forward. The obvious humiliation did not help his trauma.

Oh, but Darcy was a real man. He will do it right! On this, she had no doubt.

Sandwiching her body between him and the wall, she felt his need, full and ready. No zipper here! He was more than ready to take her in, and she shivered with anticipation.

"Put your arms around my neck, Amanda."

She complied eagerly. He then lifted her leg to rest on his hip to position her. Excitement was building within her core when his arm reached under her backside to lift her up.

_OMG! OMG!_

Penetration had Amanda crying out Darcy's name as he provided currents of electric sensations to course throughout her body. His strength and agility continued, pressing her tighter against the wall, both of his hands moved to support her completely underneath, allowing his movements to quicken.

"Mandy, look into my eyes and don't look away. I want you to memorize this precise moment."

Nodding dumbly, Amanda did as he instructed; his face was intense with focused concentration as he delivered deep unification.

Together, they rode on the winds to bring about, what Amanda would later liken it to, the prophesize, heavenly rapture often preached behind the pulpit.

Both panting and beaded with sweat, Darcy carried her back over to the bed. He fell down beside her on his back, pulling the bed cover over both their bodies.

Amanda recovered first, rolling over to her side.

"Why did you want me to memorize that exact moment?"

Turning himself sideways so that they were face-to-face, he cupped her cheek.

"Because, my darling Mandy, the moment marked an accomplishment that will, undoubtedly, impact both our futures."

Amanda's face contorted into a comical frown. "What? Throwing both our backs out?"

"The exertions were well worth the risk, but no, that is not it," he said calmly.

"Then what was accomplished?"

Kissing her gently on the forehead, Amanda felt the palm of his hand reach under the cover to span out over her belly. In a low voice of undeniable conviction, he answered.

"Our daughter."

* * *

Amanda's reaction to his declaration was not what he expected. He watched in stunned alarm as her expression went from satiated curiosity to tragic despair.

"Oh, Darcy!" she wailed disparagingly with tears flooding out. Sobbing uncontrollably, her palms flew up to hide her emotionally disfigured face. "Why did you have to be so wonderful?"

Instinctively, he reached for her, but she expediently moved out of his reach, diving under the bedspread to place a further barrier between them.

Grabbing the cover, he tugged at it so he could address her directly, but she would not let it yield.

"Amanda, what is wrong?" he asked in his gentlest voice.

Another sob echoed from underneath the covers, as the motion of the bedspread indicated that she was shaking her head back and forth.

"I…I can't. Please, go away, Darcy."

"What! Go away?" he bellowed, not believing what he just heard. "I will not!"

"Only for a bit. Please," she begged, "I can't have you near me right now."

Agitated, he rose from the bed and stiffly donned his night coat. Tightening the slash, he turned to face the bed with fists on his hips.

"Amanda, come out from under there," he said with controlled anger. "You will explain what this is all about this instant."

"Darcy, don't be mad at me. I want to tell you but…I know that you'll hate me," she answered fearfully. "I couldn't handle that."

The bleakness in her voice melted his heated direction. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his voice was lowered.

"Hate is not in my vocabulary, and if it was, I could never apply it towards you," he assured evenly. "Too great is my love."

A new bout of wailing sounded from Amanda, causing Darcy's brows to shoot up and a frown to form.

"Amanda—"

"But this is bad. You cannot know how bad, and it can't be fixed," she rambled on with a generous degree of feminine emotion. "You'll end up…really, really disliking me. I know it!"

Sighing, he laid a hand where he thought her shoulder would be.

"Amanda," he soothed, "have we not proven that any obstacle in the way of our right to love and be together will not prevail?"

Her face popped out from underneath, surprising Darcy.

"Not this obstacle," she said, shaking her head. "I can't marry you. I must leave Pemberley."

"What!"

Amanda moved to duck under the covers again, but Darcy prevented her by grabbing her upper arms and forcing her to look at him. Drawing his face close to hers, he glared into her eyes, hypnotizing her to respond.

"You will not! Amanda, I must know!"

"Don't make me—"

"Tell me!" he demanded, as he shook her.

A rush of air escape her mouth. "Do you really want to know? Okay, I'll tell you. I can't have your baby, Darcy. Ever!" she blurted aloud. "I lied! There will be no daughter! No son either! There, happy now?"

Complete silence entered the bedchamber. Bowing her head, she finished despondently, "I can't have children. I'm barren."

* * *

Okay, that should do it. Why didn't she think of this before?

The last-second idea popped into her mind after she lost it under the covers. It seemed more subtle and dignified for him to believe that she couldn't have his children, rather than the disgrace of her being pregnant with another man's child.

Amanda had no doubt that he will agree that this was a deal breaker and the wedding will need to be canceled, and that she should be sent packing back to the twenty-first century.

Inwardly, she was pleased with herself. She wouldn't have to covertly flee and they could part amicably. Yes, this was the better option. She was brilliant.

Not.

Darcy's deep laughter boomed throughout the room as he gathered her up into his arms. After a long moment of shocked paralysis, Amanda dodged his fury of attention on her person, grabbing hold of his jaw to focus on her face.

"Didn't you hear me," she exclaimed. "I can't have children. There will be no heir to carry on the Darcy name."

A lazy grin appeared. "You are wrong."

Amanda's eyes went wide. "How!"

"My brother."

"Huh?"

"George Reginald Wickham."

Amanda's mouth dropped but no words came out.

_Bugger me! Didn't see that coming did you, Amanda? _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**The Other Mr. Darcy**

Amanda rose from the bed, whipping up the night gown lying on the Persian rug and slipping it over her head.

_George, a Darcy? The bastard!_

As her arms found the holes in the spaghetti straps, she felt Darcy's eyes gazing appreciatively at her movements.

"A moon fairy in human form," he marveled, under his breath. "Why cover such a breathtaking vision?"

Turning to him, with hands on her hips, she shook her head in agitation. "I'm rather put off by your cavalier attitude right now. How is George your brother?"

"You must not be uneasy. It can all be explained, but later when I am less distracted by your loveliness," he said, moving up into a sitting position. "My mind is focused entirely on having you back in my arms. Come hither, my love. Let me fill you with my need."

Come hither. Really! Fill me with his need? Rolling her eyes, she exhaled her rising irritation. Incredibly sexy as he was, even she had her limits on the sappy, romantic drivel.

Darcy's hand shot out to grab her, but Amanda quickly dodged out of his reach, moving to the end of the bed.

"No you don't," she scolded, shaking her finger at him. "You're not going to touch me until you tell me about Wickham."

"Is that a challenge? For I gladly accept," he smirked, shrewdly lowering his eyelids.

Fancy words and phrases was one thing, but Darcy had that smoldering look going. Its irresistible pull was something she struggled against, but she had to stand her ground. She had to find out about George.

"Cut it out, Darcy. I need you to be serious here."

A deep, masculine sigh escaped Darcy as he leaned back against the bed's headboard, not caring that his robe's cords had come untied, exposing prime parts of his anatomy. Both of his hands rose to cushion the back of his head, causing Amanda to chew on her bottom lip, annoyed at his obvious attempts in tempting her back to him.

This was not going well. Darcy was being so blasé, and it did not make sense. Having offspring was not an option for the wealthy of this era; it was an inescapable necessity! It took priority over everything else, including, in most cases, love. For the Master of Pemberley to be indifferent to her claim to be infertile was unprecedented.

For this to work, she needed the proud and snobbish, Mr. Darcy to surface, or his equivalent, the Grinch, when he was 'mean' and before his heart grew three sizes. Either one of these two personalities would be huffing and puffing to expedite their separation from her. To save Darcy a lot of heartache, she had to get him to willingly show her the door.

As he was, all confident in his masculine display, it was easy to imagine him posing for the center pages of _Playgirl_. It took great restraint to not flap her transparent, fairy wings and dive bomb on the handsome breadcrumbs that was laid out before her. This Fabio wannabe—without the long hair and billowing white shirt—was not going to make it easy for her.

"Darcy, I'm waiting," she said, crossing her arms, with fingers biting into her own flesh.

"You will not trust me in this?"

"Will you not ease my troubled mind? This isn't easy for me, you know."

Realization softened Darcy's face. "Ah, touché," he acknowledged with admiration. "Your logic is irreproachable, and my conduct, unpardonable."

Adjusting his dress so he was more respectable and less exposed, Darcy moved to sit further up on the headboard to talk directly to Amanda.

"Come, sit by me, and I will explain. I will not bite."

"Yeah, but I might," she said with a smirk. "I'll stand, thank you."

Grinning, he nodded his understanding, moving his hand to finger the red welt she left on his neck.

"I was four years of age when my mother's health began to falter. It was recommended that it would benefit her to spend an extended time on the Southern Coast where the climate is milder. Accompanying her was her devoted lady's maid, Mrs. Wickham."

"George's mum?"

Darcy nodded. "Mr. Wickham, my father's Steward, was overjoyed to receive a letter informing him that his wife was found to be with child during Mrs. Darcy's respite. The couple believed that they could not conceive, so the news was unexpected, but very welcomed."

"Mr. Wickham requested her to return to Pemberley for her confinement. She refused, saying that she would not leave Mrs. Darcy in her ill health. Months later, Mrs. Wickham did return with a son, and husband and wife were contented."

Hope sprung into Amanda's eyes. "Your father and the maid, right? That would make George your half-brother, and not a legitimate heir. Law and society won't acknowledge him fully as a Darcy."

Darcy's brows lowered. "No, as far as I know, my father was faithful to my mother to the end. But I understand your presumption of him being a bastard. But, I assure you, he is not."

"What else could it be?"

"He is my full-blooded brother. It was my mother who gave birth, but she handed the child over to her maid to raise as her own."

Amanda's eyes widen. "Why would she do that?"

"My mother had an indiscretion with the gardener," Darcy said calmly, "and she believed the child to be his. With the Darcy's, the darker physical traits dominated, and this gardener was very fair. She felt certain that any suspicions would be confirmed as the infant grew and the features became more prominent."

"And the Wickham's were desperate for a child," Amanda added.

"The two women had a genuine affection for each other, and the plot seemed to have solved the crisis seamlessly, until my mother's death when George was three."

Amanda jumped into the narrative. "By then, Mrs. Wickham must have known that her mistress was mistaken in believing George was a bastard."

"That she did, but she never spoke of it for obvious reasons, and made sure that the boy was kept away from the main residence. However, after Mrs. Darcy's death, Mrs. Wickham, thinking that the secret was safe, became lax in that regard."

"Then what happened?"

"As Wickham grew into a young man, my father made the connection that he was the very likeness of my great uncle, Edward Fitzpatrick Darcy, whose portrait used to hang in the West Wing. His suspicions started a run of discrete letters with Mrs. Wickham, which were eventually placed in my hands, revealing the shocking truth."

Amanda's eyes grew wide thinking that these must be the devastating letters that the wicked witch mentioned. Darcy had them! At least, he was in control of that aspect of Broom Hilda's blackmailing.

"How did the letters come to you?"

"That is another story for another day."

"So your dad found out and that is why he treated George the way that he did. But why didn't he acknowledge his legitimate son straight away?"

"It was a delicate situation, as you can well imagine. Additionally a deathbed oath, made by my father to the dying Mrs. Wickham, delayed the revelation. He vowed that the truth would not be revealed until Mr. Wickham's death. She was most concerned that the truth would destroy Mr. Wickham."

"But your dad still didn't acknowledge George after the Steward died."

"The letters disappeared, and the truth could not be proven."

Amanda's lips pursed in disgust. "Lady Catherine, right?"

"Lady Catherine," Darcy confirmed. "I have known for some time; a fortnight before the unfortunate incident with Georgiana." He patted the bare spot next to him on the bed. "Now, will you not come back to bed?"

Ignoring his beckoning actions, Amanda unfolded her arms and clutched the thick bedpost, using it to place an object between them, not trusting herself to spring upon him like a rabbit in heat.

"That is why you didn't challenge him in a duel."

"Yes. Fortunate for Wickham and myself. It would have been a blow to learn that I took my satisfaction out on my own brother."

"That really must have been terrible thinking that your own brother and sister could have been together in…um…that way."

"Indeed. Thankfully, you convinced Georgiana to confess, which assured me of George's true character and moral values. It lifted a burden that weighed heavily upon me and solidified his fortune."

"So, Reggie is a Mr. Darcy. Will you tell him?"

He nodded, smirking at her casual title for Wickham. "I have been waiting for the right moment. I will not keep him from the truth." Crossing his arms on his chest, he gave her a reassuring look. "So you see, he will marry and produce legitimate heirs for the Uncle and Aunt to spoil and adore."

_So, George, you're not a bastard, after all. Well, this plan just crashed and burned. Think, Amanda, think!_

Mr. Bennet and his household full of femininity instantly popped into her head.

"You admitted that if you hadn't found out he was your brother, he would be dead in the ground. What would you be saying to me right now if that happened?"

"The subject of this conversation is alive and well, therefore, the question is irrelevant."

"You would have canceled the wedding. Admit it."

Annoyance began to show on his face. "Amanda, you dare to presume too much."

"And what if something happens to him before he has any children? Or maybe he will only have girls like Mr. Bennet?"

"Enough of this. I will hear no more."

"I can't let you take that chance, and…and…deprive you of being a father. You still must marry someone who can give you children." Gripping the post even tighter, she choked out, "I still have to leave you."

Darcy's face caved into an angry frown. Standing abruptly and tightening his coat's ties, he approached her menacingly.

"That is not an option."

"It is the only option and you have no say."

"Our consummation gave me the right to say that I do."

"You have to let me go."

His eyes narrowed. "Why did you not leave tonight when you had the opportunity? What was this night to you? A sympathetic bone thrown to a starving dog?"

Moving to the far post, panic registered on her face. "No! You gave me so much these past weeks that I wanted to give you a part—"

"What?" he interjected with rising emotions. "A parting gift!"

Amanda shook her head vigorously. "A part of me, Darcy," she sounded out dejectedly. Dropping her head, she added, "It's all I had to give."

Darcy was stunned for a moment at her admission. His expression softened slightly, but he stayed the course in his grilling.

"And you thought that one night would satisfy me," he questioned heatedly.

Amanda's head snapped up. "It's all that is being offered, so deal with it!"

"What!" Darcy bellowed out incredulously. "I will have all of you!"

"And I say that you won't!"

Darcy started to advance towards her. "You will stay, even if I have to chain you to that post!"

Amanda's eyes went wide in alarm. Releasing the post as if it had just burned her fingers, she stepped backwards, away from him approaching her. Holding her hand up, she shook her head, her eyes begging him to stay back.

"Please, Darcy, accept this. Besides, I'm a horrible person. I used you. Was selfish and deceitful," she argued desperately. "I never belonged in this beautiful world. It would have never worked. Kick me to the curb and nobody would blame you."

Just when he was about to grab her, Amanda jumped on the bed and scurried to the other side. Darcy changed his course, moving stealthily to waylay her.

"You shall not escape," growled Darcy in a low voice.

Pretending not to have heard him, Amanda shook her head. "Really, it's for the best. You'll marry Elizabeth Bennet. You belong with her."

"Madam, you will not mention that woman's name again!"

"Elizabeth Bennet! Elizabeth Bennet!"

"You dare to test my resolve to remain civil? You will yield to my wishes!"

"Bugger off!"

"When I get a hold of you—"

"You'll do what! Throw me into the dark dungeons of Pemberley?"

That brought Darcy to a complete stop, but Amanda saw that he was positioned to pounce on his prey at the smallest of provocation. She had to tread carefully.

Expelling out a long, calming breath, she looked at Darcy with pleading eyes.

"Oh, Darcy, can't you see I am right. I am damaged goods. Just remember me as a funny little dream…a fantasy, yeah, that's it, a fantasy," she rationalized, slowly moving off the bed to make for the door. "You will forget me and I will go back to my London, and it will be like nothing had happened."

"Back there! Over my lifeless body!"

No surprise; he pounced.

Seizing her around her waist, Darcy crushed her to him causing her to lose her breath. A second after impact, she exerted to free herself, but he only strengthened his hold on her.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, you let go of me!"

_If you let go, I'll clip you one!_

"I will not!"

_This Grinchy Darcy is so bloody exciting!_

His hand got command of her face, forcing her to look at him. Intense eyes caught hers, causing her to freeze. Jaw clenching with checked ferocity, he breathed heavily, trying to cool his raging emotions.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," he seethed with control. "It is impossible that I could ever endeavor to forget you. And it is quite impossible that I will ever attempt to replace you. And for the very last time, I will not marry Miss Bennet," his expression took on a hard serious stance. "And I guarantee you this, these impossibilities will occur. Do you understand?"

"I won't ruin your—"

His angry mouth took charge, cutting off her rebuttal. Within moments, she was clutching him and holding on for dear life.

"Let me finish with this. Tonight you became my wife as sure as if the ceremony was held and the vows were spoken. We belong to each other from this day forward, Mrs. Darcy. Don't you ever think otherwise."

A feminine croak managed to sound out before Darcy squashed her back to him to ravish her mouth. A moment later, he broke the contact.

His hand spanned the side of her face, tilting it up. "Who are you to me," he asked huskily. "Speak it."

"Mrs. Darcy," she whispered, transfixed.

"Yes, Mrs. Darcy" he said, sounding pleased, "and I shall not let you forget it."

More subdued in his satisfaction, he steadied her face with his hands, and resumed kissing her with deliberate control.

Amanda's mind echoed his voice addressing her as Mrs. Darcy, over and over again. To hear it from his lips was a gift she never thought she would receive. It was nice to be able to pretend, even for these remaining hours, that she was Mrs. Darcy, but to have him believe it too was bliss.

This was turning out to be the most miraculous night of her entire life, and she was positive nothing in her future would begin to compare. The fact that it would end, made it more imperative to get the most of it. Sure, she was drained physically—her lips were numb, her body sore in certain areas, back ached, and she was exhausted—but she was addicted. She wanted to euphorically overdose on this amazing man before she was forced into rehab where the withdraw symptoms would surely have her going cuckoo.

The need to have him stamp his seal on the short life of their perfect union, became frenzied. The shear force of emotions had her arms encircling his neck, and her lower body and legs leaping up to straddle around his waist.

Darcy was momentarily surprised, but recovered his balance quickly. His hands encouraged her zeal by moving to support her bottom, lifting her higher so she could thread her fingers through his hair and move down to take control of his head. He took on all her weight, which allowed her to worship the contours of his face with the palms of her hands.

"My dearest, Mr. Darcy," she mouthed, as she planted tiny kisses on his mouth.

Saying nothing, he locked his adoring gaze upon her face. Their eyes met and each smiled at each other in unison.

Amanda's eyes sparkled with an overwhelming desire to do something unforgettable for him. Something special that she would not do for any other man in her lifetime. Then it came to her, and the ordinary smile she displayed, flowered brilliantly before him.

Sappy? Yes. Romantic drivel? Definitely! And he'll soak it up like a sponge and love it!

Legs still wrapped around his upper waist, she hooked her feet to lock herself solidly in place. Dipping her head, her cheek guided by his sideburn, found her destination; his ear lobe. Her warm breath teased strands of his hair. Moistening her lips, she opened her mouth to serenade sweetly into his ear.

_"I hold on to your body…and feel each move you make. Your voice is warm and tender…a love that I could not forsake."_

As she sang softly and seductively, Darcy instantly was hypnotized, like a sailor listening to a mythical siren of the sea.

_"Cause I am your lady. And you are my man. Whenever you reach for me, I'll do all that I can." _

Amanda felt him start to sway to her musical rendition, as he held her. A beautiful, last dance.

_"The sound of your heart beating, made it clear suddenly. The feeling that I can't go on, is light years away. Cause I am your lady…"_

Just like Celine, her voice elevated at the powerful, ending chords, as he drifted towards the bed, his head tilting to bury itself into her neck.

_"…and you are my man. Whenever you reach for me, I'm gonna do all that I can. We're heading for something_. _Somewhere I've never been_. _Sometimes I am frightened, but I'm ready to learn…of the power of love." _

Before she could move to look at his reaction, he groaned out in wonder on the base of her neck.

"Mandy, you unearthly creature. You have captivated me completely. Excited me beyond all sense." Raising his head, desire-filled eyes looked upon her face. "I need you. I must have you!"

Both acted at the same time, fusing mouths with a fervor, which had them both toppling onto the bed. There, Darcy made love to her, starting off in a fury of desperate passion, moving fluidly into a mutual enthusiasm, and ending with bodies entwined in tender reverence.

* * *

Afterwards, lying fully on his chest, breast upon breast, Amanda savored the slight touch of Darcy's fingers, softly caressing the dip in the small of her back.

Sighing deeply at the scene that just played out, Amanda was speechless. There were no words. Peppering his skin with light kisses, she hugged him tighter, causing him to reciprocate and speak to her in a low voice.

"Listen, my love. It was wrong for me to speak so vehemently, but I could not allow you to continue on this course you feel that you need to take because of your precondition, which is of no fault of your own. You were unjustly severe on yourself, and I would not have it," he spoke with firm tenderness. "It angered me that you would believe I could dismiss you so easily. Furthermore, the thought of you leaving and returning to that vile place, struck fear in my heart. You must not think of it again. "

"But, Darcy—"

"Hush now, let me finish," he interrupted, while twisting their bodies to lie sideways, bringing them both face-to-face. "My father made his wishes clear in the letters. He wanted my brother restored to his rightful title, and Pemberley mastered by his two sons. I mean to see it happen," he said with conviction. "As the elder son, I will be perceived as Master, but once it is announced that Wickham is a true Darcy, he will share in the responsibilities and rewards equally."

"And if he gets killed in his stupid pursuit of gaiety, what then?"

"Then, the Darcy name dies with me. Georgiana's husband or my cousin will inherit Pemberley. It is the way of the world."

"You will resent me. Think me a curse."

"Does a curse bring such light? You have embedded yourself into the hearts of many. First myself," he acknowledged, kissing her generously, "then Georgiana, the servants, and even Wickham. The high regard, I am certain, will spread like a wildfire until everyone for miles will not be satisfied unless you are in their presence." Wrapping his arm around the deepest curve of her waist to span possessively on her back, he grinned, "I will, naturally, be quite a jailor, and keep you locked up in the dungeons of Pemberley."

"Maybe you should have George locked up. You know he will run screaming from any responsibility."

"I will be persuasive."

"And marriage? He'll fight it."

Chuckling, Darcy's eyes softened. "Then I shall harrow hell; find another Miss Price for him to fall madly in love with. Surely, she will bring him to his knees in humble submission at the altar and of his duties."

Tears formed in her eyes, causing Darcy to balk. "What, no smiles or sweet laughter?"

"Oh, but Cindy Lou. I'm so sorry, Darcy. I led you to believe she could have been. I wanted her…your child," she sobbed. "You would have made such a brilliant Papa."

Tightening his hold on her, he shook his head. "Don't trouble yourself with what might have been. I could endure well enough not experiencing fatherhood, but I would suffer cruelly in life without you by my side."

Amanda willed herself not to start sniveling again. Cupping his cheek, she managed to mouth out a faint admission of her love for him and then bury her head under his jaw to hide her face.

Gathering her up more solidly into his embrace, he spoke with soothing insistence.

"With these reassurances, I must insist you say a solemn oath that you will not leave Pemberley."

Looking up at him, Amanda's mouth dropped to speak, but only a few sounds that could have been perceived as words, stumbled out. Darcy continued instead.

"Promise me that there will be no more talk of leaving, and I will believe you." When she did not answer straight away, he looked more intently into her wide, moist-filled eyes. "Mandy, promise me," he said with more emphasis.

"I promise," she squeaked.

An instant smile spread across his face, as his head dipped to start to kiss her collarbone.

"Yes, to what," he asked.

Amanda, near panic, quickly threaded her fingers through his thick hair and brought his head to the center of her breasts, attempting to distract him.

"Yes, Darcy, I will love you…forever…I promise," she stuttered, in a barely audible voice.

A grunt of satisfaction sounded from him as he kissed the curvature of her breast, continuing downwards to reacquaint himself with her other peaks and valleys.

Amanda let out a huge sigh of relief, as Darcy's warm hands, mouth and tongue, rewarded her for her heartfelt pledge.

_Yes, my dearest, dearest, Darcy. I will love you forever._

At least, she could say that in that declaration, she did not perjure herself.

* * *

Darcy stared in quiet reflection at the opulent mural painted on the bedchamber's ceiling, highlighted by the receding moonlight. Sleep was beckoning, but he did not want to fall victim.

In regards to the woman that slumbered peacefully in his arms, the time with her exceeded every expectation, and because of it, he did not want the night to expire. Every instance with her was exquisitely euphoric, wondrous, and breathtakingly refreshing.

It was but a few hours away from dawn, and Amanda would need to return to her own bedchamber. The thought of being parted from her was bittersweet, even for the time in between, up to the hour they will exchange their marriage vows.

Inhaling deeply and slowly releasing, he was suddenly overwhelmed with contentment and gratification. From their soft and tender love-making to the wild and unbridled, indescribable was the hours that had passed into unforgettable memories of historic proportions. Even their heated exchange sparked a unique stimulation of anticipated ecstasy that he never experienced before.

And to think, she was going to leave.

A shiver ran through him at the thought. It was most fortunate that the truth behind the reason why she sought him out early to consummate their love was revealed. She was thinking of him and the legacy of great estate. This was a shining testament to the new Mistress of Pemberley.

His confession, and his assurances that the Darcy name would continue, seem to put her at ease. Amanda's promise never to consider leaving him again appeased his own anxiety, as well.

However, it troubled him. What if there was no brother? It was a question she asked that he could not answer directly. Could he send her away? Could he bear to part with all this unexpected happiness and joy she brought to his life.

Glancing down at Amanda, he gently moved her hair from her forehead so he could peer upon her angelic face. She moved slightly, and her arms instinctively tightened around his waist, mumbling sweetly in her sleep.

No, he could not part with her. He knew this now.

Gently Darcy's hand found the soft surface of her stomach, and sadness became visible in his expression. He would not add to her distress by admitting to her that he was deeply mournful at her disclosure. To see and feel her belly swelled with his child would be a fulfillment beyond all imaginations.

He had often imagined, over the past weeks, a delightful, miniature version of Amanda, running up to him and lifting her high up into his arms. Cynthia Louise, who would always be affectionately known as Cindy Lou, would be a name that would forever be echoing in his dreams, but never to be spoken in reality.

Then there was the sorrow he held for the mother that was not to be. How much pain Amanda must have suffered to know that she would be deprived of bearing and nurturing their children. Darcy had no doubt that she would have met every expectation in the role of mother. The great halls of Pemberley would have experienced the laughter of children like never before under the care and loving spirit of the woman in his arms.

_Oh, my love, how can I even begin to fill such a void? _

His face quickly transformed from one of regret, to one etched with determination.

_If it takes me a lifetime, I shall fill that void. I shall!_

Amanda leg moved and crossed over his, touching that part of his body that had his ardor sparking back to life. However, he was resolute to let her rest. She must be exhausted, and he would not tax her any further this night.

After this day, he will have the luxury of her earthly self by his side as his cherished wife. Until then, Darcy thought as he closed his eyes, he was certain that he would find Amanda in his dreams. Perhaps, he will find her holding hands with their darling little girl.

Shaking his head, he quickly told himself to bury that vision of the child. He needed to focus on what was real and solely reliant on him. Amanda. She who _will_ be loved.

Of this he knew, her existence with him would be constant, and her happiness and health, his mission in life.

* * *

The first light of day streaming into the bedchamber along with the loud shrilling of Peacocks slowly brought Darcy out from a deep sleep.

His exposed, lean and muscular body was sprawled out on his stomach on top of the bed's covers. The breeze drifting in from the opened window revive his body and mind from the slumber.

With eyes still unwilling to open, his hand reached out to search for her form, only to find it not there. His fairy must have fluttered back to her room after he had fallen asleep.

Groaning out his disappointment, he rolled over and rested his lower arm over his eyes to shield them from the light. His discontent was fleeting as his thoughts turned to the promise of the day in that she would officially become his wife in writing. Then as her husband, he would say to Mrs. Darcy, that he would not tolerate or suffer her being out of arms reach from him again.

At the present, in her absence, once again he had only his mind to imagine how he would be slowly waking her to rediscover her pleasurable body in the daylight. His comforter was the certainty of the sun rising the next day and the countless number of mornings thereafter with flesh and bone near to take into his arms.

Darcy grinned at another thought. Tomorrow will come soon enough, but the night would come sooner. A deep sigh escaped him. Yes, he could use a thousand more nights such as the one he had just passed with her.

Then again, it gave him much pleasure in thinking of her coming to their marital bed and plainly conversing about the day's events and making plans for the next. Then they would innocently fall asleep, wrapped only in the warmth and comfort of simply being together.

He may require those simple nights with her, but he felt that those times would be far and between. If there was to be a light in the darkness in her not being able to conceive, it would be that he could quench his desire and drink in his fill of her every night, without consequence.

In thinking of quenching his thirst, Darcy suddenly felt parched. However, feeling the ache and soreness of some of his own muscles, he acknowledged that it was probably for the best that his fairy was safely back in her own bed. After the robust night, he also needed some recovery time and had earned a well-deserved reprieve.

For the present.


End file.
